


5 Times Laurent and Makoto Hooked up + the 1 Time it Meant Something

by grepres (nnivanfields)



Category: Great Pretender (Anime)
Genre: 5+1 Things, Anal Sex, Blowjobs, Fingering, Graphic Sex, I haven't seen it yet, M/M, and probably just the porn lmao, backup dancer episode, come here for the porn, handjobs, im lying they're gonna be in love when i'm done, lots of smut, makoto gets roped into the most anime scheme ever, no case 4 au, pls stay for the love, this fic is just a big smutty mess with some story at the end
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-17
Updated: 2020-10-23
Packaged: 2021-03-08 01:21:02
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 65,416
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26507371
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nnivanfields/pseuds/grepres
Summary: It always starts with pools and great scenery, doesn't it? They should know that casual sex doesn't ever stay casual. Does what happens in Vegas really stay in Vegas?My 5+1 contribution to the Great Pretender and Edaurent fanbase, and also my shameless excuse to write a bunch of porn.
Relationships: Edamura Makoto/Laurent Thierry
Comments: 179
Kudos: 1737
Collections: i think that kind of life is what happiness is





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This was supposed to be a oneshot.  
> It's not a oneshot. I already have a whole ass story arc planned.  
> Y'all are stuck with me now.

One good thing about being relentlessly roped into schemes with the Laurent-proclaimed Team Confidence is the fact that Makoto gets to join them in basking in their lavish lifestyle. Don’t get him wrong—he’s perfectly fine with the amenities a normal existence would provide him, but if he’s going to be forced to be a schmoozer alongside a bunch of other schmoozers, he’s going to selfishly and shamelessly take advantage of everything they have to offer.

At present, it’s the private swimming pool connected to the Las Vegas luxury suite they’re currently staying in. Makoto doesn’t want to know how much money Laurent dumped into staying here, but he also doubts it’s any skin off the guy’s nose. He’s so damned snooty sometimes.

But Makoto can’t deny how nice it is. The suite itself is like a home all on its own, with a private bedroom, a spacious living room, and a legitimate fucking kitchen. He’d go back home to Japan in an instant if he could, make no mistake, but…yeah, vacation. He just needs to keep calling this a vacation.

In any case, he’s going to enjoy every second of it because it’s coming out of that French asshole’s pocket.

Laurent willingly paid for Makoto to have his own suite, and Cynthia and Abbie are staying in the next one over, but seeing as Laurent’s happens to be the only one with a pool directly connected to it, Makoto plans on making the best of it until it’s time for him to dip off to bed.

The pool is located in what is essentially a glorified patio. The suite’s living room features full-length windows and a sliding door that opens up into a concrete deck which overlooks the city from almost frighteningly high up. The pool is set up so that it almost looks like it runs right over the edge, and at this time of night, it’s downright gorgeous. Makoto doesn’t like heights, but he finds that if he stays on the side of the pool furthest from the scenery, it’s actually pretty nice to see.

At night, Las Vegas is a city of bright colors. There are lights scattered about the city, blinking and stretching across entire blocks in shades of reds and blues and purples. Makoto could quite honestly soak in this pool all evening long and never get bored.

But of course, this is Laurent’s suite, so he’s naturally going to come and ruin the good time by joining Makoto in the water. Not surprisingly, he has a drink in his hand as he slips into the water.

“I chose this room specifically for the view,” the Frenchman announces proudly as he leans back against the edge of the pool.

Makoto glances over at him as he extends the drink toward him. Laurent is sporting nothing but a smile, and Makoto means literally _nothing_. For whatever reason, the guy has decided to join him in the pool in his birthday suit.

The unfortunate reality of the situation is that Laurent looks good in just about anything. With or without clothes, he’s stupidly attractive. If not for the fact that he’s so _aware_ of how attractive he is, Makoto might have been interested in taking a longer look, but he’s definitely not about to feed the ego of some dumb blond jackass.

No wonder Abbie and Cynthia call him that so often—it has a special sort of ring to it.

Either way, Makoto outright scoffs at the sight. “Go put some shorts on.”

“Is this damaging to virgin eyes?” Laurent teases softly, and before Makoto can retort that he’s not a virgin (which he _isn’t_ , fuck you very much), he speaks up once more over the rim of his champagne glass. “This is _my_ suite, and I just so happen to want to swim naked.”

Jeez…and to think Makoto had planned on staying out here and enjoying the scenery until his skin pruned up. Now, he’s genuinely debating climbing right out and leaving Laurent to his champagne and the uncontrollable _thing_ floating around in the water between his legs.

He’s about to speak up when Laurent cuts him off once more.

“You’re welcome to join me.”

“I’m already joining you,” Makoto growls in response.

“You knew what I was implying, Edamame.”

“ _Edamura_ ,” Makoto snaps. “And no, I am _not_ skinny-dipping with you.”

Laurent snickers there, doubling over somewhat and looking away. God, he’s such a prick.

“The hell is it this time?” Makoto demands, though he already has an inkling of an idea.

“Say it again!” Laurent chokes out around his own laughter. “With your accent, it sounds so ridiculous!”

Makoto feels his entire face go red with embarrassment and frustration. For a solid three seconds, he catches himself fantasizing about snatching that glass from Laurent’s hand and shattering it over his head, but seeing as he doesn’t plan on swimming with a bunch of glass shards, he should probably keep his hands to himself. That in mind, he instead glares in the opposite direction of Laurent. “I hate you so damned much.”

“You don’t hate me.” The fact that Laurent is still giggling a bit ticks Makoto off even more.

“I despise you.”

“No, you don’t.”

Honestly? Makoto doesn’t hate Laurent. He likes him significantly less than he likes Cynthia and Abbie, but ‘hate’ really is a strong word. Right now, however, it feels like the only one that actually fits. He could honestly slug the hell out of this dude and not feel an ounce of guilt for it.

Even if it left a bruise on that ridiculously pretty face of his.

“It’s very relaxing, you know.” Laurent’s sudden topic change is a bit dizzying. “When you don’t feel like you have to put your clothes on to come out and enjoy yourself, it makes this place seem a lot more like your own.”

Makoto doesn’t honestly know anything about Laurent’s life outside of being a con artist, but because he has a tendency to overthink things, he’s automatically wondering if that statement has some sort of deeper meaning. Constantly traveling, never able to stay in one place for too long…does Laurent crave some sort of stability? Something to hold onto?

Actually, you know what? There’s no way in hell that’s possible. Laurent Thierry is a simple-minded jerk and nothing more. Makoto notes this with another scoff, this time turning his glare out to the Las Vegas horizon.

“I think you just like having your junk hanging out,” Makoto grumbles. Out of the corner of his eye, he sees Laurent shrug.

“That too.” He sips on his drink and then sets it aside on the concrete edge of the pool. Makoto watches him swim toward the edge that overlooks the city and almost feels compelled to yell for him to stop. It really does look like you could just…swim right over the edge. “I still suggest that you try it with me.”

Makoto’s concern for Laurent dies instantly when he hears those words. “That sounds like you’re coming on to me.”

“And if I am?” Laurent is at the edge by now, and he doesn’t turn around as he responds.

Okay, so here’s the thing: Makoto knows Laurent is a flirt. Abbie has made a point to announce on multiple occasions just how perverted the guy can be. Laurent has called him cute time and time again, and sometimes he says things with this _look_ on his face that implies so much more than what his words are getting at. Early on, it just grossed him out, but as time has passed, Makoto has learned to let it go in one ear and out the other.

But right now, he doesn’t feel like this is one of those moments. They’re alone in a pool together and without saying it directly, Laurent is suggesting he take his clothes off. The flirt bears a little more weight with all that factored in.

“You’re not serious,” Makoto responds around a frown. He’s not even grossed out at this point. He’s just…perhaps a bit confused. If Laurent is actually hitting on him, will he reciprocate? Makoto doubts it’d be anything long-term since Laurent likely isn’t the relationship type. And when’s the last time he actually _did_ get laid?

Wait, no. There is no way in hell he’s contemplating getting it on with Laurent Thierry. That asshole would never let him live it down, and the _looks_ he’d be giving him…god, Makoto is embarrassed just thinking about it.

But then, Laurent turns around and says something so surprisingly _not_ pushy that it catches Makoto completely off guard. He’s smiling at him, the lights in the distance almost coming off as a clever backdrop behind him. The way the shadows play on his hair and skin and eyes damn near makes Makoto shiver.

“I’m only serious if you want me to be.”

Is this what being seduced feels like? Makoto honestly isn’t sure. He does know that despite having his accent made fun of literally a minute ago he can’t seem to take his eyes off the man who had done it. Laurent is just floating there, grinning lazily at him with that stupid careless look on his face, and as much as Makoto wants to slap it right off of him, he’s suddenly _very_ interested in what the man has to offer.

The water is only roughly four feet deep, making it obvious the pool was intended for nothing more than lounging about. Makoto can definitely say he’s never done anything like this in the water before, but he’s a little too far mentally to stop now. That in mind, he stands upright and shoves his shorts down, kicking them off and tossing them out of the water. They hit the concrete with a very not-sexy slapping sound.

Laurent raises both eyebrows, before he extends a hand toward Makoto. “Come here.”

Makoto swallows down nervousness and shakes his head. “The view’s enough for me right where I am.”

He watches the blond turn his gaze out over the edge of the pool once more, and he also sees the realization hit. “Right…you’re afraid of heights. No matter…I’ll come to you.”

Is he being sweet? Makoto really can’t tell—there’s truly no guessing with a guy like Laurent. Either way, with the swishing of the bright blue water, Laurent flutters closer, holding out his hand once more. Makoto stares at the extended hand, before he decides he’s just going to go for it, and then he takes that hand.

Laurent his big hands with long fingers, and Makoto instantly feels like his own fits perfectly in that grip. He doesn’t protest as the Frenchman pulls him in, and he’s only mildly surprised when he feels that other arm curl around his waist.

Laurent is so much taller than Makoto. Nearly a foot taller, probably. Makoto is downright gaping up at him, wide eyes locked onto calm blue ones. Laurent scoffs softly, before he swishes back in the water, and Makoto notices that he does so sideways to avoid the edge. “Take a dip with me,” he requests, before he lowers them both beneath the surface and releases his waist.

Their hands are still clasped, and Makoto doesn’t let go. Under the water, the view is almost as beautiful as it is above. The lights from the patio shimmer down through the water, creating quivering round shapes, and the glass that overlooks the edge of the pool lets in some of the colors from the city lights. Makoto would have probably discovered this view on his own over time, but there’s something about seeing it with that hand holding his own. Still underwater, he turns his entire body slowly over to face Laurent, who’s still smiling that lazy smile of his.

He’s really about to do this. He’s really about to give his evening—his calm, relaxing evening in the private pool of a Las Vegas presidential suite—to Laurent. How is it that this man always occupies him so fully?

Makoto Edamura will always have a strict preference for a relaxing, honest life back home where he can exist as a normal person. He aches to be able to say he worked for everything he got, and for all of this crawling up from the bottom to have some semblance of a meaning.

But he also can’t deny just how much of the world he’s seen since he started traveling with these guys. And at the front of it has almost always been Laurent.

Makoto pulls on that hand holding his own, and Laurent pulls back. As they come to the surface, Laurent’s arm is back around his waist, and Makoto is all-but clinging to him for dear life. Laurent hoists him up wordlessly as they come up for air, and then he releases Makoto’s hand, bringing his own now free hand up to rest it between the younger man’s shoulder blades. In this current position, Makoto hovers over Laurent by a few inches, and he’s given the chance to see the man from above.

With the water weighing down that somewhat messy blond hair and droplets of it peppering his face, the lights glint down on it and make him look yet again like an unfairly perfect work of art. Makoto’s got one hand on Laurent’s shoulder, and the other moves on its own, brushing some of that hair off the man’s forehead.

“You’re still a bastard.”

Laurent just grins more widely. “I am.”

The kiss is mutual, but it’s mind-blowingly good all the same. Despite the fact that he’s got his mouth on Laurent’s and his hand in the man’s hair, it’s almost easy to forget that they’re both stark naked.

This is stupid. It’s downright crazy. Makoto had never once thought that he would wind up where he is right now, but despite that, he can’t bring himself to pull away. The champagne on Laurent’s tongue is bitter, but at the same time, it tastes good. Or maybe that’s just Laurent, himself.

In just seconds, Makoto finds himself backed up against the edge of the pool once more, and as Laurent nips at his lower lip, he can’t help but bring his own arms around the taller man’s frame. Much to what will later be his own personal chagrin, he notices how much he likes the feeling of Laurent’s skin beneath his fingertips. It’s to the point that he’s so distracted holding him that when the older man’s kisses shift to his neck, he’s genuinely shocked.

His breath catches in his throat at the sensation that comes from those lips closing around the crook of his neck. Laurent hones in on a particularly sensitive spot and sucks gently, causing Makoto’s entire body to light up with interest. The sensation goes straight down his spine and settles comfortably between his legs.

“…No marks,” he demands breathily, because he definitely doesn’t want to have to be explaining himself the next day. It’s also damned difficult to keep a good cover with a hickey, and Makoto doesn’t even know yet what kind of con they’re being roped into this time around.

“Do you want me to stop?” Laurent questions against his neck, and the heat of his breath on Makoto’s skin damn near makes him whimper.

“No…not a chance. Just…don’t leave any marks.”

Laurent chuckles—against Makoto’s skin again, damn him—but seems to obey. The sucking shifts to kissing, and he tips his head and focuses on Makoto’s jaw instead, before he uses a surprising amount of strength to pick the younger man up and plant him on the edge of the pool.

“Lie back,” He instructs simply, before he presses his hand to Makoto’s chest and urges him backward. “Look up at the sky and enjoy the view.”

The sky of a big city never offers much of a view. Directly up, it’s just smoke and clouds obscuring the stars. Had Makoto been off in the countryside somewhere, Laurent’s suggestion might have made more sense. And he’s about to question it when he feels a hand on either of his knees push his legs open somewhat.

His cheeks flush red as he realizes they’re really doing this.

Laurent starts with a kiss to the inside of Makoto’s right thigh, while his hand creeps up along the left. He’s slow and patient, clear until he reaches his groin, where he sucks at the skin just next to Makoto’s pelvis. The sensation is sharp and pleasant and causes Makoto’s breathing to hitch again. He immediately moves to prop himself up on his forearms, glaring hazily down at Laurent.

“I said no marks.”

“Do you intend on showing off this part of you to anyone else anytime soon?” Laurent raises both eyebrows, before he curls his fingers around the base of Makoto’s growing arousal, giving him a few strokes. “Now lie back, won’t you?”

Makoto shoots him one last glare before he obeys and focuses on the sky. It’s not as bad as he initially thought. The city lights from below offer an almost pastel tint to the gray above, and it’s actually decently enjoyable.

What’s more enjoyable, though, is the sudden heat that surrounds his cock. Laurent’s mouth is warm and wet and while Makoto is definitely _not_ a virgin, he can’t say he’s ever had someone suck him off before. Laurent is surprisingly methodical, with how he swirls his tongue around the head and runs it along the underside. He knows exactly what parts are the most sensitive, and it’s no surprise that he has Makoto flushed bright red and breathing a little raggedly within just minutes.

He’s relentless, too. Makoto gets the feeling that he doesn’t plan on stopping until Makoto himself is finished—not that he minds, because it’s actually damned good. There’s also something exciting about that French bastard having no choice but to shut the hell up with Makoto’s dick in his mouth.

It doesn’t take long before Makoto has one hand in Laurent’s hair, his grip shaky as his orgasm hits in a series of violent waves. He chokes back a series of moans as Laurent swallows him freely, and by the time it’s all said and done, he’s left on his back on that concrete, panting.

Laurent releases him and slithers backward, wiping at his mouth with the back of his hand. He’s still somehow sporting that stupid grin of his, and it’s seeing that grin that propels Makoto forward. He seizes Laurent by that pretty blond hair of his and pulls him half out of the pool, kissing him almost frantically.

“Get out of the water,” Makoto demands, his own impatience surprising him. “Let’s go inside.”

Laurent chuckles. “It’s cold in there.”

“Then wear a freaking towel,” Makoto retorts, moving to stand up. “C’mon.”

Over the course of the next fifteen minutes or so, Makoto learns that as a lover, Laurent is surprisingly gentle and caring. He locates two thick, warm towels inside and makes a show out of drying Makoto’s hair. There’s a sort of playfulness to it that almost has Makoto feeling like this isn’t Laurent Thierry he’s doing this with. But when he looks up and sees those blue eyes gazing down at him from underneath the hood he’s made of his own towel, that lazy stare finds him once more and he’s reminded who it is.

Despite his earlier comments, he’s surprisingly thrilled to see that gaze locked on his own. Laurent leaves the towel hooded over Makoto’s hair, using his grip on either side of it to pull him in closer, and like that, they’re kissing again.

Just minutes later, Makoto finds himself on his back on the plush mattress of Laurent’s bed. It’s the last place he ever imagined he would be, but he’s not as against it as he expected he would be. Laurent moves to crawl over him, and he reaches up in response to curl his arms around that man’s neck once more, but Laurent stops him. His grip is surprisingly gentle as he takes hold of Makoto’s wrists and guides them onto the mattress over his head. He dips down to capture Makoto’s lips once more, and it’s all downhill from there.

If Makoto wasn’t in the middle of making out with Laurent, he might have taken the time to find some amusement in the fact that this all started with him lounging in Laurent’s pool and Laurent making fun of the way he said ‘skinny-dipping’. He does, however, realize that there’s a small possibility Laurent had intended for it to go this way the instant he’d stepped into the water naked with Makoto.

Which also implies that Laurent knew Makoto wouldn’t turn him away. Either that or he’s just a straight-faced gambler with a lot more luck than your average Joe.

Seriously, fuck him.

Apparently also _literally_ fuck him.

Makoto is pulled out of his thoughts when Laurent rocks down against him. He’s already gotten off once already, but when he feels how hard Laurent is with his cock pressed firm between their torsos, he can feel the fluttering warmth of his own arousal starting to build once more. Makoto frees one of his wrists from the other man’s grip and slides his hand between them, curling his fingers around Laurent’s erection. He gives the man a few experimental strokes, and the approving hum tells him Laurent likes it.

Eventually though, Laurent shifts so that he’s settled more between Makoto’s legs than atop him, and once he’s there, he pushes the younger man’s legs open again. A look of realization crosses his face there, before he reaches off to the side and pulls open the drawer of the bedside table. Makoto is equal parts relieved and equal parts disturbed to see lube and a condom withdrawn from the drawer. He shoots an embarrassed scowl up at Laurent.

“You knew this was coming.”

“Mmm…not exactly,” Laurent hums in response. “but I came prepared just in case.”

Makoto flushes red there. “You’re so gross.”

“Do you want to stop?” Laurent questions simply, his eyes half-lidded as if it’d make no difference to him.

“No way in hell,” Makoto grumbles back.

A pleasant sigh falls from Laurent’s lips there, before he sits back and pops open the lube. “To clarify… _are_ you a virgin?”

Makoto knows by the tone of that question that Laurent is asking simply because of the route things are going in, but it still feels like a personal jab, so he glares up at the Frenchman almost impatiently. “No. And you can tell Abbie that your damn self now.”

“I can?” Laurent looks beyond amused, and Makoto stifles the urge to kick him in the chest.

“On second thought, don’t you dare.”

Laurent scoffs in amusement. “Perhaps that’s for the better. She’d never let you live opening your legs to someone like me down.”

“Exactly.” Despite that response, Makoto _does_ open his legs, and he _also_ turns his gaze up to shoot Laurent a very impatient look. The look must be exactly the motivation the man needs too, because he takes that moment to squeeze out some of the lube onto his fingers.

Mind you, while Makoto is definitely _not_ a virgin, it’s been a while since his last time. He’s not exactly the poster guy for sex, either. So when he feels one of Laurent’s fingers pressing carefully into him, he does tense up a bit. Laurent notices, and in an attempt to relax him, he leans over and presses a kiss to one of Makoto’s bent knees.

Jesus…why is he like this? He’s such a _jerk_ , and yet he’s being so very patient right now. It’s not that Makoto has ever fancied Laurent to be _impatient_ or anything…it’s just that, well, he’s a _jerk_! Why in the fuck is Makoto so damned flattered right now?

He looks up and away, and he’s not sure if it’s because Laurent is fingering him right now or if it’s because there may be certain aspects of the blond that he miscalculated on. In any case, he’s been proven wrong before, and it’s also not like he’s about to come crawling back to this man for sex again or anything, so he doesn’t allow himself to think too much about it.

Laurent is careful even as he pushes in a second finger. He’s slow and methodical about it, waiting until he feels Makoto relax before he moves the digits. He pumps them slowly, before he twists his wrist and curls his fingers upward, and in a display of skill that Makoto doesn’t bother questioning, he brushes up against his prostate within seconds.

Makoto’s been pretty good about keeping his noises to himself, but the instant he feels that direct stimulation, a moan tumbles from his lips and his head falls back loosely onto the mattress. His hands find the sheets on either side of him and bundle into them, seeking traction as he bucks down for more. He’s instantly addicted to the feeling.

Laurent chuckles a bit in response to that reaction, curling his fingers yet again. “That’s good?”

Makoto can only nod in reply. He thinks that maybe he should be more irritated that Laurent is getting to see him like this, but he’s honestly not. At this point, the man has earned it. So instead, he rocks down once more, hoping his actions get the point across. He’s rock hard all over again, and he can only imagine how good Laurent fucks if everything else he’s done up to now has been this on-point.

And luckily for him, Laurent is perceptive. He withdraws his fingers, instead reaching for the condom. Makoto finds himself irritated yet again by how _good_ he looks ripping the thing open with his teeth, and the anticipation builds as he watches Laurent roll the condom out onto himself. He doles out another helping of the lube and covers his cock with it, before he hoists up Makoto’s legs so that they’re over his shoulders and begins the task of guiding himself inside.

Laurent is a lot bigger than two fingers, and the stretch almost burns, but not quite. Laurent is taking his time, and the level of focus on his expression is almost soothing. It’s…pleasant to watch as he pushes his way fully inside. Makoto knows beyond any shadow of a doubt that he’s never going to get to see Laurent look like this again, so he takes what he can get, clear until the other man is all the way in to the hilt.

Laurent hesitates for one, two, three seconds, before he finally starts to move, and Makoto finds he gets to be the one enjoying seeing him come apart for once.

Laurent isn’t exactly _coming apart_ , of course. The guy’s just generally too composed for that. No, it’s more like he’s a little less…fucking perfect looking. Makoto has seen him nervous a couple of times, but this is different, and maybe it’s because he knows that he’s the one directly inducing the reaction.

Laurent’s brow is raised just a fraction more than usual, and he has resorted to propping his hands up on either side of Makoto’s head as he starts up a careful pace. He’s gone utterly silent, which is another joy Makoto can revel in.

Either way, it’s beyond good. As the pace grows more and more regular, Makoto lets his own eyes fall shut and uses his hold on the sheets and mattress to try and meet each of Laurent’s thrusts. He’s aching to feel the way he had moments ago, when Laurent had found that spot inside him that had damn near made him see stars.

But for now, it’s also pleasant to focus on the way they sound moving together. There’s the gentle swish of sheets and the slick sounds of their bodies, not entirely dry from their dip in Laurent’s pool, moving together. The bed creaks just a little, and their breathing quickly grows heavier and more purposeful.

Makoto attempts to open his eyes and see Laurent’s face once more, but before he can, a sharp wave of pleasure hits so suddenly that he outright whimpers in response to the feeling. His mouth falls open there, and a breathy “ _fuck_ …” escapes his lips.

And like that, he’s gone. It doesn’t matter who he’s having sex with anymore. He just wants that feeling again and again. Desperately, he arches his back and pushes down to meet Laurent’s now-quicker thrusts. “Right—right there…”

It’s in response to that that Laurent actually lets out something like a moan, and when Makoto is finally able to open his eyes and focus his hazy gaze on the blond, he’s instantly gone. Laurent’s face is flushed, and a thin sheen of sweat has started to form at his brow. His mouth hangs open, eyes damn near closed, and his eyebrows are furrowed upward in pleasure.

The almost methodical sounds of their movements become borderline frantic, there. Laurent is making a point to angle his thrusts, and the grunts coming from his own mouth are erratic and breathy. Makoto is right there with him, too—a garbled mess of panting and cursing as Laurent picks up the pace. He bucks down onto the other man almost desperately, clear until he can feel the heat building at the base of his spine.

Laurent comes first, not surprisingly considering Makoto has already gotten off once. Makoto feels him twitching and convulsing from the inside—hears the way Laurent pants out something like cursing as his release takes over. His thrusts become rougher and more uneven as he works to bring Makoto to the same release, and it’s not long after he brings his hand down and strokes Makoto’s cock in time with his movements that the younger man hits his second climax of the night.

It’s safe to say Makoto is overstimulated. His release is borderline painful, but it’s also so damned good that he doesn’t stop moving until clear after his orgasm has peppered his chest and stomach and the ringing in his ears has ceased.

He tenses as Laurent pulls out, but goes still almost immediately afterward. He can barely make out the shape of the other man looking for one of their towels to clean them both up with. Laurent’s form disappears into the restroom, but once he returns from washing up, he heads for his closet. Makoto watches him with what little focus the afterglow will let him have.

“Need help back to your room?” Laurent teases almost instantly, though his own breathy voice tells Makoto he isn’t quite back up to a hundred percent just yet.

“Piss off…” Makoto grumbles, turning over in bed. “I’m not moving.”

“Are you suggesting I let you spend the night with me?” Laurent questions, both eyebrows raised.

“You can have the couch.” Makoto doesn’t give a damn that this is Laurent’s suite. He’s comfortable and he’s also now very tired.

“I’ll pass,” Laurent replies easily, and Makoto doesn’t have to look over to know he’s smiling.

“Then you can have the foot of the bed.” You know, like a dog.

Laurent doesn’t respond. Instead, he makes his way back to the bed and crawls in. The way the sheets sound as he does so tells Makoto he’s got pants on now. Either way, before he can turn and face the man to find out for certain, there’s suddenly an article of clothing plopped over his eyes. Makoto grumpily rips it off his face and holds it up where he can now see that it’s a pair of pajama pants.

“You can wear these.”

“You’re like a yard taller than me,” Makoto reminds.

“Roll them up, then,” Laurent suggests simply, and when Makoto finally turns to face him, he sees that the blond is on his back with his hands folded behind his head. “You only need them until morning, after all.”

Makoto supposes he makes a good point, and it doesn’t take him long after that to slip into them. He pulls them over his hips and then turns back onto his side.

“Goodnight, Edamame.”

Makoto simply flips him off and pulls the blankets over his body. It’s a lot colder now that he’s not swapping spit with that French bastard.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> considering the new case has been released in japan, i feel it's worth noting that this fic will be written without knowledge of what happens in said case! even if subs do come out before i finish it, i will continue to write it as if case 4 hasn't happened yet. 
> 
> i'm super stoked to be able to watch it eventually ughhh it's killing me not getting to.
> 
> anywho, i just wanted to point out that i received so many lovely comments on my first chapter that it got me through some really tough work days. you guys are all a godsend, and i'm forever going to love being a part of this fandom with how welcoming everyone is. i hope you continue to enjoy this work, and as always, thank you all so much for your lovely comments and feedback!

“Nope. Not a chance. No way in hell.”

How many other ways for saying ‘no’ can Makoto come up with? Should he start telling Laurent off in Japanese and French, too? Because there is no damned way this shit is happening again.

He should have known, what with being in Vegas and all, that he was going to be asked to participate actively in their next big scheme. It’s one thing to start out as a mechanic on one, but to be directly involved again is a slap in the face. Why in the hell did he let Laurent drag him into another one of these in the first place? Stupid overly confident blond asshole…

Laurent doesn’t look the faintest bit bothered by Makoto’s adamant refusal. He also doesn’t look like he plans on backing down, either.

“You haven’t let me explain,” Laurent replies, both blond eyebrows raised high up onto his forehead. He’s quick to get to said explanation, probably to cut Makoto off before he can retort. He extends his phone out to the other three sitting on the hotel suite couch, where the advertisement for a Vegas-born live competition covers the entirety of the screen. The header picture is a heavily-stylized animation of a bunch of different dancers all sporting unique styles of clothing and posed in varying ways. Above the poster is a single statement: “#ITSYOURTURN”, which Makoto guesses is a tag you can follow or post in for the show, which is named _Turn Up The Beat_.

The images don’t make him any more interested.

“ _Turn Up The Beat_ made its debut two years ago,” Laurent explains as Cynthia takes the phone and Makoto and Abbie hover over it to get a better look. It’s likely that Cynthia already knows a great deal about what they’re going to be doing, but she seems to be surveying the information just as intently. Abbie, on the other hand, doesn’t appear to be all that in the know yet. Thankfully for Makoto, she looks just as disinterested as he is.

“The show has yet to reach its full potential, but it survives as a popular contest for Nevada locals and viewers from surrounding states.” Laurent either doesn’t care about or is completely unaware of the looks of disdain on both Makoto’s and Abbie’s faces. “Winners are promised a spot on the stage as a backup dancer for a relatively famous local pop musician, Madeline Bettany.”

“Nope.” Abbie crosses her arms over her chest, sitting back onto the couch in the posh living room of Laurent’s suite. “Not interested.”

“You haven’t even heard my proposition,” Laurent tries with an almost nervous laugh. Makoto knows it’s because he’s aware of the fact that without Abbie, he’s not going to be able to pull this off.

The fact that Abbie is even humoring him is kind of a surprise, if you ask Makoto. In any case, he waits for Laurent to inevitably continue.

“The curious thing about this is that neither winner has been featured performing with our prized celebrity.”

Makoto looks up at him there, which is his first mistake, because it means Laurent has appealed to his curiosity. Laurent, perceptive enough to notice this, keeps going.

“They receive rave reviews on social media and then disappear entirely for a brief period. The first winner, a young female college student studying linguistics with a passion for dance, was accused of theft from Bettany’s own property and promptly arrested. She’s currently still behind bars. The second, a chef and dance instructor, was sued for sexual harassment and now lives as a pariah in a homeless shelter.”

By now, Makoto is frowning, making it obvious he wants to know more. He definitely doesn’t still plan on getting involved, but Laurent’s story has succeeded in grabbing his attention.

“How do you know all of this?” Makoto decides to question, still not completely convinced. “This is all local, and yet you flew us all the way here for it.”

Cynthia speaks up there. “Remember the little freckled kid you met at the villa after Los Angeles?” Makoto only vaguely remembers anyone with freckles because that entire ordeal was a very big, very frustrating blur, but he thinks he might know who Cynthia is talking about. The kid hadn’t been very talkative, and Makoto honestly only recalls seeing his face. “His sister is the jailed college student. He’s been doing some digging, and he brought her innocence to my attention…and Laurent has been helping me from there.”

“For the record,” Laurent adds, “The boy goes by ‘Kenny’ and he’s actually her _older_ brother. He’s quite the investigator, so I see why he posed so well as part of the FBI. In any case, the information he has managed to dig up implies that Madeline’s father, unsurprisingly one of the producers for the show, has devised the competition as a sort of underground ‘matchmaker’ for his daughter. If he deems the winner unworthy, he finds a way to dispose of them.”

Finally, Laurent is getting to the point. “I want the two of you to compete.”

“I can’t dance,” Makoto cuts in abruptly, unapologetically.

“I’m _not_ dancing,” Abbie joins in just as firmly.

“You don’t have to win,” Cynthia suggests from between the two of them. “This competition isn’t rigged like, say, the Pathfinder Air Race was, so there’s no promise you would. Viewers send in their votes.”

“We’d just like for our little star to take a liking to one of you,” Laurent continues as if he hadn’t been cut off in the first place. “We need for you to gather her attention enough for her to let you spend time with her and draw out more information.”

“Kenny seems convinced that Bettany isn’t in on her father’s schemes,” Cynthia says. “She may have no idea what’s going on, or she may be vehemently against it.”

“Or maybe Kenny’s wrong and she’s all for it,” Laurent persists. “Either way, the two of you are the keys to helping us figure that out.”

“There’s no promise she’d give a damn about either of us,” Abbie argues blandly. “It’s not normally your game to chance things like this, you know.”

“I agree,” Makoto pitches in. “There’s too much in the air about this. If we don’t succeed, what’re you going to do?”

“We’ll figure that out over time,” Cynthia responds. “In the meantime, the two of you are going to need to start practicing.”

“You’re out of your mind,” Abbie blurts around a scowl. “I’m not doing this.”

“I’m not a US citizen,” Makoto reminds them. “I can’t even sign up.”

“We’ve got that covered,” Laurent corrects, looking far too proud of himself for Makoto’s comfort. “You’ll just need to play a part.”

“I’m not doing it.” Makoto crosses his arms over his chest, adamant.

Laurent still looks unaffected, despite not getting what he’s asking for. His expression is as relaxed as ever. “Oh, don’t be like that. Besides, Cynthia and I would be loosely involved, too.”

It isn’t like Laurent and Cynthia don’t take part in cons as it is, but with the way Laurent is saying it, it’s meant to grab Makoto’s attention…which it does, much to his own frustration.

“That’s right,” Cynthia adds, grinning widely. “I’ll act as Abbie’s coach and manager, and Laurent will be yours, Edamame.”

“Was that supposed to make me _want_ to join?” Makoto sneers, before he gets up and heads for the kitchen. He makes quick work of pouring himself some coffee, before he starts back out to the pool without so much as another word.

During the day, it’s almost as beautiful out as it is at night. It’s late enough in the afternoon that the sun is high in the sky and beams down upon the scenery with an intense heat, but the view is nice enough that Makoto can enjoy it despite the fact that his coffee is hot too. He’ll go cool off in his own hotel room once the crowd in the living room has dispersed. Right now, he just needs an excuse to get away from everyone.

He _always_ gets dragged back into these schemes, and it pisses him off more and more every time. Makoto hasn’t forgotten about how Laurent had told him that he was a con artist at heart back in Singapore. He doubts he’ll ever forget that, because as unfortunate as it is to hear, it’s got some level of truth to it. He was a talented swindler before he’d even realized that what he was doing was swindling, and it always seems to come right back to him no matter how much he tries to avoid it.

Mind you, he’s going to _keep_ trying despite all that.

Makoto sighs through the steam rising from his coffee mug, before he turns his gaze to the pool. He hasn’t forgotten anything that happened last night, and when he glances over, he can almost see the way he’d been all sprawled out on the concrete with Laurent’s head between his legs.

There’s no denying the fact that Makoto had very much enjoyed what had happened. Sex with Laurent isn’t going to be something that he forgets any time soon, if ever, and there’s also the nagging memory of how the city lights had looked in the distance behind him, yet somehow twinkling all around him like they’d existed as part of his aura.

This morning had been a bit of an awkward one, too. Makoto hadn’t been smart enough to bring a change of clothes for when he was done in the pool, so he’d had to shuffle out of Laurent’s room and make the walk of shame to his own in the Frenchman’s too-long pajama pants with his own still-damp swim trunks draped over his arm. On the way there, he had tripped on one of the pant legs and faceplanted right onto the ground in front of the door to his hotel room, and when he had looked up, Cynthia had been emerging from her own room. The smile on her face continues to haunt Makoto right down to this very second.

The last thing he needs is for it to get around that he slept with Laurent. If the cat gets out of the bag, so be it, but Makoto isn’t exactly mentally equipped for the joking that would follow, or for the look of utmost disappointment Abbie would likely give him.

Not that Makoto is going to let anything like last night happen again. No matter how good Laurent had looked or how sweet his lips had tasted, Makoto’s already too closely connected to Team Confidence as it is. He doesn’t need to add to that the status of barely acquaintances with benefits.

Even if it _had_ been good.

“It’s a nice view even in the daytime, isn’t it?”

Makoto’s face puckers as if he accidentally poured salt into his coffee. He shoots Laurent a glare. Is this guy stupid? Does he seriously not get why Makoto had gotten up and walked away in the first place?

“Go plot out your dance crap somewhere else,” he snaps, taking a much-too-hasty sip on his coffee and burning his tongue in the process. As he curses in response to the little burst of pain, he can feel Laurent’s gaze shifting from the horizon to him.

“We’re in _my_ suite, remember?”

When Makoto turns a glare to Laurent, he sees that the blond is smiling his usual smile at him, completely unaffected by the harshness of his words. At present, Laurent sports another one of his tacky printed button-ups—this one featuring sailboats and a rainbow-hazed watery sort of background—but Makoto can almost picture the way he’d looked last night, in nothing at all.

He scoffs loudly, almost like a grouchy child, and forces down another hot swig of coffee. “There’s plenty of room for you to be somewhere else right now.”

“I wanted to enjoy the view.”

Again, Makoto lets out a scoff, before he starts back into the living room and heads for the door. Cynthia and Abbie are still on the couch, poring over Laurent’s phone. Makoto stops at the arm of the couch, glancing down at the both of them. His gaze shifts to Abbie, who peers up at him with an almost bored expression on her face.

“What?” She questions dully, waiting for Makoto to speak up.

Makoto shrugs. “Are you going to do it?”

Abbie mirrors his shrug. “It’s not like I have anything better to do.”

Makoto doesn’t respond. Instead, he lets out a sigh and continues toward the door. As he turns the handle and wrenches it open, Cynthia speaks up from behind him.

“I’m making dinner tonight. Be at my room around six, okay?”

One thing Laurent had obnoxiously announced back at Cynthia’s villa following the Los Angeles situation still rings absolutely true—Cynthia’s cooking is incredible. Makoto doesn’t want to discuss cons or schemes or anything of the like anymore, but he’s not about to turn away her food. That in mind, he churns out a quick “yeah, yeah” before he starts out the door.

Not surprisingly, their hotel happens to be on the Strip like just about everything else. As he steps out to walk along part of it, he can tell why Laurent’s room had offered such an extravagant view from the balcony. It overlooks everything that the Strip has to offer. Las Vegas has made it into fictional works from all genres, and things like the MGM and the water and light show bear a strange level of familiarity to them. They look almost identical to the things Makoto has seen and read about them. He makes a mental note to come out and see the fountains at night.

One thing none of the fictional works feature, however, are the capsule machines. Not surprisingly, Makoto decides to stop and dispense a couple of them from some of the machines. He pops one from the rodeo-themed machine open and scoffs at the little green rodeo clown that’s peering back up at him.

_“You’ll just have to play a part.”_

What would he even _do_ if he agreed to this? From everything Laurent and Cynthia had been saying, it doesn’t look like they have much of a plan. The goal to remove the college girl from her wrongful place in prison is a definite thought, and Makoto imagines they’d try and do something about the homeless chef as well (provided he didn’t actually sexually harass anyone), but sneaking into a dance competition with some shady underground intentions doesn’t seem to pose many options financially. They’re not convincing some man to buy into an underground casino or making an illegal drug exchange…they’re just…competing. The equation is missing a profit, which seems a little extreme for Team Confidence.

Makoto thinks back to how elaborate the scheme in Los Angeles was. He had been perfectly aware of the fact that he was making a fake version of a drug for a mob boss, but the entire thing had been a mask to the real con that had taken place right under his nose without him even knowing. Are Cynthia and Laurent pulling something like that again? And while he’s on that train of thought, is Abbie in on it too? She _is_ a pretty good actress…

Hell, maybe his refusal is somehow part of the plan, too.

Makoto pockets the capsule toy clown and starts walking. He decides not to open the other one he’d dispensed from a Vegas themed one. There’s a lot to take in on the Strip itself, so he focuses on that instead.

It’s pretty exciting that he manages to see one of the Strip’s many Elvis impersonators in real life, as well as getting a massage from one of the parlors on the way. He spends a good couple of hours just walking about, before he grabs a drink from a shop on the way back to his hotel. He doesn’t realize how much time has passed until he sees the big clock outside of his hotel telling him it’s nearly six in the evening.

Well…time to go face the self-proclaimed Team Confidence again, he supposes…

He makes quick work of changing into a teal and white short-sleeved shirt and some khaki shorts before he heads to Cynthia’s hotel room. He’s instantly greeted to the mingling smells of several different foods cooking. Cynthia is hard at work in the kitchen, so Makoto moves to join her.

“…Can I help out somehow?” He questions as she hands him a bottle of water. She has a glass of wine on the counter next to the salad she’s hard at work tossing, though it doesn’t look like she’s given it much attention yet.

“Yeah, actually,” she replies around a smile. “Set the table for me before Laurent decides the couch is a better place to sit and eat at. He may act refined, but he’s the absolute worst at table manners.”

“I’ve gathered that much,” Makoto replies around a laugh. As he digs through the kitchen’s cabinets and starts pulling out plates, he takes some relief in the fact that Cynthia doesn’t seem to be hovering over what she had seen this morning. He tries not to tell himself that it’s because she’s seen people sneak out of Laurent’s room before, and then promptly mentally curses himself for even worrying about who gets themselves involved in Laurent’s sex life.

Speaking of which, Cynthia had been going on about Laurent taking a seat in the wrong place…so where are he and Abbie at?

Almost as if he had mentally summoned the guy, Cynthia’s balcony door slides open and the blond walks in, carrying on about something Makoto can’t quite hear. He hears another voice, but doesn’t recognize it until he looks up and sees a young man with freckles. He instantly spins around to face Cynthia, who smiles at him as she shoves tongs into the salad bowl.

Of course they’d be discussing the con he hadn’t yet agreed to participate in. Worse yet, they’re going to use Kenny to guilt Makoto into joining, a la ‘please save my sister from her untimely death in prison!’

Those bastards. Every last one of them. Makoto knows what they’re doing, and he also knows now that he’s not getting out of it. There’s no way in hell he can tell Kenny in person that he’s not going to try and help get his sister out of prison.

For now, he releases a long sigh and adds one more set of dishes to the table.

“Hey there…Edamame, was it?” Kenny approaches, his tone pleasant and patient.

Makoto bites back a scowl. “Edamura.”

“Right, sorry.” Kenny smiles and cocks his head, scratching at the back of his neck. “I just wanted to thank you…for helping me with Natalie.”

Natalie, huh? Must be the name of his sister.

Wait…did Laurent already tell Kenny that Makoto was going to help?

The instant Kenny is out of the room, Makoto is going to _kill_ that French asshole. For now, he smiles through gritted teeth. “Of course, it’s the least I could do.”

“That’s the spirit!” Laurent’s hand is absolutely not welcome on Makoto’s shoulder, so he makes quick work of shoving it away, before he turns a sharp glare up to the blond.

“I’ll deal with _you_ later,” he snarls just over a whisper.

Laurent raises his eyebrows. “I like the sound of that.”

Makoto continues to scowl up at Laurent for a solid few more seconds in response to those words, but he eventually exhales a frustrated sigh and instead turns his focus to the significantly-less-annoying Kenny. “About your sister…what kind of information have you come up with?”

Kenny laughs nervously, shaking his head. “Nothing concrete, unfortunately. It’s mostly what she’s told me when I’ve visited her. No one is going to believe her word against that of the Bettany family, but I can say for certain that my sister is innocent. I basically brought her up after our parents disappeared. The only person who knows my sister better than me is my sister, herself.”

As Cynthia approaches and starts plating the food, Makoto takes a seat and Kenny does so too, sitting opposite him. Their eyes meet, and Makoto finally speaks up.

“You and your sister have been by yourselves?”

Kenny nods in acknowledgment. “My mother was abducted from her job at a local restaurant, and when my father decided to pursue her, they were both found dead a few months later.” He says this so matter-of-factly that it shocks Makoto and he finds it hard to imagine that Kenny is the one who actually has this story to tell. “Natalie and I spent some time with our grandparents, before she and I decided to get our own place. She enrolled in college and I…fell into Team Confidence to help out.”

Makoto frowns at that, but doesn’t say anything. Instead, he allows Kenny to keep speaking, as it looks like he’s going to.

“Natalie entered the competition and won with flying colors. She had secured herself a spot working under Bettany, but then disappeared not even a week in. When I found out she’d been arrested, I couldn’t believe what I was seeing. She didn’t communicate it to me—it wound up on the news.” He shrugs and turns his gaze toward the full-length windows peeking out onto the balcony from Cynthia’s hotel room. “I went to visit her as soon as I could, and she let the whole thing spill out right there.”

By the time Kenny has entered into this part of the story, Laurent and Cynthia have joined them at the table and Abbie is lingering about nearby. As she approaches, Kenny keeps speaking.

“She claimed that Madeline attempted to pursue a sexual relationship with her and she turned it down. The very next day, her father was accusing Natalie of having stolen thousands of dollars from her wallet, and he had somehow managed to plant it as evidence. With the wealthy father of a famous pop star footing the story, Natalie didn’t stand a chance. She’s convinced that something similar happened to the following winner, Baxter Wiggins.”

Makoto still doesn’t want to participate. The way these people operate is so dangerous that one false move could land them all in prison, and if the father is that dedicated to finding someone for his daughter that he’ll see to it that he eliminates her former winners in order to start up a new competition…what could happen to himself and Abbie?

“One thing doesn’t add up,” Abbie comments as she starts eating. “We’ve been told you think the daughter isn’t in on it—so why’d she make a move on Natalie?”

Kenny shakes his head. “Beats me, but Natalie swears up and down it didn’t seem like something Madeline wanted to do.”

“Her father could be pressuring her,” Laurent chips in, to which Cynthia nods in agreement. “Every father wants nothing more than to see his daughter settle down and wind up happy. He likely acknowledges that his daughter is so focused on her line of work that she hasn’t had time to find love.”

“Relationships aren’t everything,” Makoto grumbles, as if his words would make an ounce of difference in the situation. “At least, not the romantic ones.” His relationship with his mother will forever be of vital importance to him, and even though he doesn’t like being a part of Laurent’s team, he values all of them.

Yes, even Laurent.

“If we can find some way to convince Madeline to clear Natalie’s and Baxter’s names,” Cynthia presses, “we may be able to free her from her father’s grasp, as well.”

“But the two of you will have to put your best foot forward,” Laurent adds, gesturing with a smile to Abbie, and then to Makoto. “There’s going to be a lot riding on how well you can perform.”

“Screw you,” Abbie grunts around a bite of chicken.

“We’re not professional dancers,” Makoto chips in.

“I meant your performance with Bettany,” Laurent retorts. “You don’t have to win, remember? Just catch her interest and gain her trust enough to find a way in.”

Makoto wants to protest, but at this point, he knows it’s not going to get him anywhere. He’d basically already agreed to help out the minute he’d seen the way Kenny had looked at him.

But there’s a lot that still doesn’t make sense. Makoto doesn’t understand why Madeline’s father would go to the lengths of a dance competition to find his daughter a partner, or why he sees fit to get rid of anyone who isn’t compatible with her. Most performers have multiple backup dancers, after all…

Something else is definitely going on here, and the more Makoto thinks about it, the more he realizes just how much he _does_ need to get on the inside.

Damn it…

Makoto knows he promised Laurent that he’d be dealing with him once dinner is over, but by the time it’s all said and done, his mind has been churning at a mile a minute and he’s quite honestly not feeling like dealing with the perpetual state of smugness and calm that is one French bastard, so he instead retires to his room and makes sure to flip the manual lock on the door on his way in.

How many times has he promised himself he was going to go back to living an honest life? How many times has he told these guys that this or that scheme was his last one? Each time it’s happened, Makoto has sworn he’d felt more and more certain of it, but here he is right now, already thinking about how he’s going to go about helping Kenny and his sister out.

His frustration follows him into the shower and clear to bed, right along with his concern for the innocent girl in prison and the homeless man whose life had been turned upside down over a dance competition. Of course he doesn’t want to have to label himself a swindler again, but he also can’t help but worry about the people involved. How many more times is Bettany’s father going to do this? How many more times can he get away with it?

Laurent had told Makoto in Singapore that he was a swindler by nature, and it wasn’t the first time he’d heard the man say that. He’s learned to thrive on it whenever needed, but he doesn’t _want_ that. All he wants to do is wake up on a normal day in a normal apartment with a normal job. Is that really too much to ask?

Maybe Makoto should have joined Cynthia and the others in drinking. Right now, the only cocktail he’s under the influence of is a mixture of mental exhaustion from being hooked into yet another high-stakes con and the simple fact that what he’s going to have to _do_ in said con has him wound for sound. He doubts sleep is going to come any time soon, and a little booze may be just the ticket for that.

Or perhaps a dip in the pool.

 _Laurent’s_ pool.

Because, you know, _that_ had gone smoothly last night.

Makoto surprisingly finds thinking about it to be a nice break from dwelling on what he’s going to have to start practicing for tomorrow. If he focuses on the coolness of the water and the way the underwater lighting had made it look an almost glowing shade of blue, he can almost calm his taut nerves. Remembering the view of the city lights on the horizon is also a plus.

But then, there’s the recollection of the swish of the pool’s water and Laurent joining him in it, completely naked. There’s the dialogue about Makoto’s accent, and then the offer for him to strip down to nothing, too. There’s also the memory of Makoto actually _complying_ with that request and the mindblowing view of the city from underwater. The sex that followed…

It really _had_ been good, and it had been a release Makoto hadn’t realized he had needed. Despite having been in the same bed as Laurent Thierry, Makoto had slept like a bump on a damned log, and the only challenge had been deciding how in the hell he was going to get from Laurent’s room to his own without getting caught.

He’s trying not to think about the way Laurent had kissed at his jaw, or about the mouth that had worked wonders on him, but it’s a little difficult not to. Whether he wants to or not, he pictures those eyes staring down at him the instant his own eyes fall closed.

He can almost feel the warmth of those lips wrapped around his cock again. The way Laurent’s tongue had known all the right places to go, and how downright _sinful_ he had looked once it was all over, as he’d backed away into that water.

Whether or not Makoto wants to admit it, he’s very much physically attracted to Laurent. It’s enough that he’s thinking about the bastard while he’s alone in his own damned bed, and the even worse part about it is that his body is responding to it.

He’s not going to go crawling back to Laurent’s room. If he does, he’ll never hear the end of it. Laurent’s already too proud of himself. It’s frankly a surprise he hadn’t made a point to announce to everyone during dinner what had happened. Wouldn’t that be the story of the century? Surprise surprise, everyone, Makoto doesn’t hate Laurent anymore!

Or…something stupid like that.

That doesn’t do away with the fact that Makoto is very much starting to develop a hard-on thinking about what happened. That smug smile, and the stupid twinkle to those unfairly pretty eyes…how good Laurent had looked hovering over him— _felt_ while fucking him…

Makoto groans aloud, frustrated, and bundles his hands into his sheets. He pulls them down taut against the mattress, creating the tiniest amount of pressure on his clothed groin with them. It isn’t much, but that little burst of friction feels _good_ , and when he couples it with the mental images he’s currently incapable of pushing away, it’s even better.

He is most definitely not about to start touching himself over Laurent. Absolutely not. No…it’s just been a long day, and he needs to burn off some tension. This has nothing to do with some blond prick with a savior complex. It’s just release.

Makoto almost has himself convinced of that fact when his phone starts ringing. He’s got his hand jammed into his pajama pants and his dick at full mast when Laurent’s ringtone starts blasting from his bedside table.

He freezes his movements, as if the ringing of his phone had stopped it itself, and waits for it to cease ringing. He almost doesn’t want to continue after that, but he doubts he’s willing himself back down again any time soon, so as soon as the room falls silent once more, he starts up all over again.

And then the phone rings once more.

Frustrated, Makoto rips his hand from his pants and turns over, snatching the phone from the table with his other hand and accepting the call.

“…the hell do you want?” He barks into the receiver, cursing the fact that he sounds a bit out of breath.

Even before Laurent speaks, Makoto can hear the amusement coming from the other line. “For you to open your door. I have good news for you.”

“Can’t it wait until tomorrow? I’m trying to sleep.” Makoto makes no effort to disguise his exasperation.

“You don’t sound very sleepy. In any case, it’ll only take a few minutes.”

“Then tell me over the phone.”

“I’m waiting at your door.” Laurent’s voice is just on the right side of pouty, and Makoto knows he’s going to concede defeat at that. At the very least, Laurent being a pain in his ass has done well to talk his arousal back down somewhat, so maybe he _can_ stomach a few minutes of conversation.

He hangs the phone up and tosses it onto his mattress, before he gets to his feet and leaves the bedroom. When he opens the door, he makes certain to cast an all-too-common glare Laurent’s way.

Makoto looks stupidly underdressed by comparison. Laurent is still in his day clothes, while Makoto himself is sporting pajamas, the pants hanging a little low on one side. He makes quick work of pulling them back up onto his hips with one hand as he plants the other on the doorframe, effectively barring Laurent from coming in.

“News. Hurry it up.”

Laurent cocks an eyebrow. “In private, Edamame.”

“You have fifteen seconds,” Makoto growls, still not moving.

“People can hear us, though.” Laurent gestures with his thumb toward the open hallway.

Makoto’s piercing, impatient stare hasn’t wavered for a second. “Call me by my actual name, first.”

“Pardon?” Laurent actually laughs, and Makoto can’t really blame him. The demand is a little on the childish side, but he’s also not about to take it back.

“You heard me. Call me something other than ‘Edamame’, and you’ll get your few minutes of privacy.”

“You’re so cross…have I upset you?”

“What tipped you off?” Makoto sneers, before he taps at his wrist, where a watch would sit if he had one on. “Five seconds left.”

He should know better than to challenge Laurent in a battle of wills, honestly. The man never seems to back down from being difficult, and now isn’t any different. Makoto isn’t ready for him to be so direct about it, but soon enough, Laurent has his chin tucked between his thumb and forefinger and is tipping it up so he can look directly into his eyes.

“ _Makoto_ , won’t you be a dear and let me into your hotel room?”

What is it with this guy? One minute, he has Makoto so beyond angry that he just wants to slug him, and the next, he’s all-but undressing him with his eyes. The words, combined with the sudden closeness and warmth of that hand on his chin, has Makoto getting worked up all over again, and it’s no surprise that he caves in and steps back. The tent in his pants that had never fully gone down is twitching back to life all over again, and of _course_ Laurent notices.

“Wow!” Laurent exclaims, pulling the door shut behind him. “Six to midnight in nothing flat! Didn’t see that coming.”

Makoto flushes beet red all over again, taking a few cautious steps backward. He knows he looks downright comical in his weird mix of arousal and anger, but it’s not like he can do anything to rewind it now. If that were the case, maybe he’d be rewinding the entirety of last night, too.

“Just say what you need to say.”

“Kudo’s flying in tomorrow,” Laurent answers simply, his smile broad and unwavering, seemingly unaffected by Makoto’s words. “I know you enjoy having him around, so I thought it would be a comfort for you to know you’ll have his company as well.”

Did he seriously come in here just to tell Makoto that? As nice as it is to know that Kudo will be here in the morning (Makoto really does like him, despite all that happened), couldn’t that have waited until tomorrow? Makoto gets the feeling that Laurent hadn’t come in here solely to tell him that. No, it’s more like he’s just looking for an excuse to get into his hotel room.

“Want some help with that?” Laurent changes the subject abruptly, pointing downward to Makoto’s rather obvious problem.

“ _No_.” Makoto narrows his eyes at him.

And then he immediately reconsiders. The more he thinks about it, the more he realizes that Laurent may be in a very similar situation. Playboy or not, it’s obvious that it’s _Makoto_ he’s sexually pursuing, and even if it _is_ strictly sexual, Makoto thinks he might be fine with that. He can’t begin to imagine what being in an actual romantic relationship with this jerk would be like.

That in mind, he looks away, genuinely shocked by his sudden change of heart. He can’t believe what he’s about to say, and it shows in the bright red blush on his cheeks and ears.

“Yeah, actually.”

Laurent must not have expected that, because he genuinely blinks in surprise, and seeing that smug look disappear from his features even for just a few seconds is satisfying. Dare Makoto also think that it’s kind of cute?

“Are you being serious?” Laurent asks, and the way his tone shifts tells Makoto he really is shocked.

Which Makoto sort of likes. Being able to throw Laurent off his guard is always a nice bonus to any situation. That alone gives him a decent helping of extra confidence. It’s tempting to just up and drop his pants, but maybe he wants to put Laurent to the task of taking them off himself.

That in mind, he takes another step back, suddenly smirking up at the taller man, and speaks up. “Are you gonna put your hands on me or not?”

He knows Laurent is going to give him what he’s asking for, but how quickly the Frenchman responds is a little shocking even to Makoto. In a matter of seconds, there are hands on both his shoulders, and Laurent is urging him backward. His legs bend under the pressure of the couch behind him, and he collapses down onto it. He’s barely got any time to react, before Laurent his suddenly straddling his waist and kissing him full on the mouth.

And put his hands on Makoto, Laurent does. He’s immediately working at the buttons of his pajamas, popping them open one by one and pushing the shirt wide open. His hands seek out Makoto’s chest as his teeth sink into his lower lip, nipping on just the right edge of hard.

Is this because Makoto had been the one to solicit him this time? All he knows is that Laurent is almost impatient with his movements, his hands sliding down along Makoto’s torso, and it’s actually kind of hot. He’s still strangely attentive in the way that he kisses, even if his pacing is a lot more erratic than it was last time. He’s moving quickly, but not carelessly.

Neither of them are prepared this time. Unless Laurent carries lube and condoms around in his back freaking pocket, Makoto doesn’t imagine they’re taking it to the level they did last night. But in all honesty, he doesn’t care, especially once Laurent’s hand slides into the waistband of his pants and curls around his cock.

Makoto could just let him go to town, really. He could just sit here and revel in the way Laurent’s tongue feels teasing at the seam of his lips and how good he is at giving a handjob. But the more he finds himself enjoying it, the more he realizes he wants to see Laurent lose his composure again. To be quite honest, that had been one of the things that had really pushed Makoto over the edge last night. The sex was beyond good, but to watch that look of self-satisfaction decompose right before his eyes in the wake of pleasure induced by _someone else_ …that’s something Makoto could get used to seeing all the time.

That in mind, he pushes past the haze of his own pleasure and snatches Laurent’s shirt in his own hands, immediately working at the buttons.

“Careful…” Laurent grunts into what is shaping up to be a messy, open-mouthed kiss. “This shirt—”

“—is expensive,” Makoto interjects. “I’m aware.”

He somehow manages to work the shirt open without doing any damage, and his hands are instantly roaming. Laurent’s relentless assault on Makoto’s cock stammers a bit when he brushes his thumb over one of the other man’s nipples, and when Laurent breaks off the kiss to look at him, he knows he’s done something right.

Laurent’s own face is just the tiniest hint of flushed as his blue eyes bore right down into Makoto’s. “You’re awfully adventurous.”

“That had better not be a complaint.”

“The opposite, actually.”

Makoto takes advantage of the fact that they’re not kissing right now in favor of leaning forward and flicking his tongue out over the same nipple he had just touched. The instant the moisture hits the skin and the cold air cools it, it stiffens, and when Makoto licks out at the nub again, he can tell Laurent likes it, because he can literally feel the outline of his erection growing in his pants.

For a while, they’re just a mess of heated noises, from the little purrs of delight Laurent keeps letting out to the ragged breathing coming from Makoto as Laurent keeps stroking him. Makoto finally ceases his assault on Laurent’s chest in favor of curling his fingers around the outline of the man’s arousal through his pants. He teases at it for a few seconds, before he works open the blond’s belt and fly and pulls his cock free from the confines.

And then, it’s back to heatedly touching one another and panting like they’re running a mile. Makoto’s head falls back on the backrest of the couch, while Laurent’s lips seek out his neck. His hips are bucking into the hand pumping at him, and he’s doing his best to return the favor with equal energy.

This time, it’s Makoto who finishes first, but Laurent doesn’t last long after. Within half a minute, they’re both panting, faces flushed, release spilled out across Makoto’s chest and stomach. He instantly feels better, and not unlike last night, he’s tired enough to fall right asleep the instant he gets back to his bed.

Laurent leans in once more, stealing a few languid kisses, before he pulls back and heads to the restroom to wash his hands. Makoto follows suit and does the same, watching the older man as he tucks himself back into his pants. Laurent catches him watching and flashes a smile at him. Somehow, that smile still looks just as composed as ever, even after sex.

“Tomorrow morning, Edamame,” he replies simply, drying his hands on a towel. “Eight AM, sharp. I’ll text you the address.”

“For practice, I’m guessing?” Makoto questions, stepping back toward the doorway. He’s still coming down from the high his orgasm induced, but he’s processing what’s being said to him well enough.

“That’s right,” Laurent responds around a smile. “We’ve got a lot to do before the competition starts.”

Makoto releases a sigh, shaking his head. “You’ve really got to stop making me do these things. I mean it, Laurent—this is the last time.”

Laurent just continues smiling as he brushes past Makoto. He brings a hand out on his way by and gives Makoto’s shoulder a squeeze. “Goodnight. You’re going to need the rest, so tuck in early, will you?”

As he heads out the door, Makoto calls out to him, “You made me stay up later just now!”

Nevermind the fact that Makoto had asked for it on his own. He could have sent Laurent away and gone straight to bed, but he hadn’t.

He definitely hadn’t signed up for any of this when he’d followed Laurent to Los Angeles all those years ago. But here he is, slightly weak-kneed, his body buzzing with sexual afterglow and his mind rambling all over again about a fucking _dance competition._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i told you it was shameless porn.
> 
> slowly the story will work its way in though lmfao


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> the chapters keep getting longer LMAO
> 
> the more i write, the more ideas come to my mind for this story. i'm having a lot of fun with it, and i'm genuinely blown away by how many people are enjoying it. your comments, as always, are my bread and butter and i can't thank you all enough for all the lovely things you've said about this work. 
> 
> genuinely didn't expect a 5+1 to take off like this, but thank you so much. hope you enjoy this chapter just as much!

The truth is, Makoto honestly hadn’t fathomed he would get this far. Even for a local competition, the people auditioning are from all over the country, and there are thousands of them. Getting accepted automatically becomes a challenge when you’re up against enough people to fill a luxury cruise ship.

But he _does_ get accepted. Somehow, despite Makoto having exactly zero professional dancing experience, both he and Abbie have found themselves being enrolled as official participants in _Turn Up the Beat_. Their performances will be featured live from here on out, with the first one being a week from today.

Makoto is beyond exhausted. For the past week and a half, he has been practicing for hours each day to land himself a spot in the competition. At the very least, he can honestly say that he has a fond appreciation for just how much effort dancers put into their work. You can tell yourself you have rhythm all you want, but it isn’t until you have to get a feel for timing and steps and flowing from one move to the next that you understand just how incredibly challenging it is.

Laurent has been a surprisingly committed coach, though. Makoto doubts he has any real experience in the field of dance, but he can tell Laurent’s been doing his homework for quite some time in the way he’s been going about instructing. He’s good at that, Makoto has learned. When it comes to adapting to whatever situation he’s involved in, Laurent is a well-practiced jack of all trades.

Perhaps it’s just enough to get them where they need to be, too. Laurent is by no means a professional, but his grasp on the matter is strong enough to coach Makoto through mastering his auditioning performance, so there’s hope.

Either way, tonight is a night of celebration. Back in Laurent’s suite, the entire group, Kenny included, is gathered around drinks and room service meals. Cynthia’s got one arm curled around Abbie’s shoulders and a drink in her other hand. Abbie’s focus is on the lobster she’s currently cramming into her mouth, and the sight brings Makoto back to a certain evening in Hollywood.

Makoto still isn’t all that crazy about having been dragged into yet another con, but here he is, and he honestly feels pretty good about the way things have gone so far. He had received a pretty warm welcome from the judges when he’d been accepted, though they’d also had some criticism to offer. This is the subject he’s presently discussing with everyone. Laurent is at his side, listening in with a surprising amount of care, and Kenny is on his other side, also cramming food into his mouth.

“They said I have a lot of growing to do,” Makoto explains, “but that I strike them as the type who adheres to teachings and goes above and beyond to elevate myself. Not bad, if I do say so myself.”

“Not bad at all,” Laurent agrees, and Makoto doesn’t have to look over to tell there’s a big smile on his face. “The Japanese _are_ quite disciplined by nature.”

“Don’t talk like you know everything about Japan.” Makoto draws some level of catharsis from his own words. Telling Laurent to shove it is always a breath of fresh air, after all.

“They called this one a natural,” Cynthia joins in, her hold on Abbie tightening in a sort of side-hug that Abbie doesn’t make any effort to pull herself out of. She simply continues eating, probably only vaguely paying attention to the conversation. “Considering her background, that’s no surprise.”

“Watch it,” Abbie warns, though she doesn’t sound all that threatening with food in her mouth.

Makoto only vaguely knows about what happened when Abbie was younger, but he does understand what Cynthia is getting at when she says it.

“That’s incredible, Abbie,” Laurent chimes in, earning himself an annoyed stare from the girl herself. “Maybe you’ll step on up and win yourself a wife out of all of this.”

“Hard pass,” Abbie grunts out in response.

This earns laughter from everyone, Makoto included, before Kenny speaks up.

“Thank you guys so much,” he replies, smiling broadly. “I seriously don’t know how I’ll ever be able to make it up to you.”

“It’s the least we could do,” Cynthia responds warmly. “You helped us a great deal back in California, after all.”

Kenny chuckles nervously there, drawing his gaze down to his lap. “Natalie’s going to be ecstatic.”

Makoto finds himself staring at Kenny there. This guy must be all kinds of worried about his sister. To finally hear that things might be heading in the right direction for her probably puts him a little more at ease. It’s this reassurance that reminds Makoto he has to continue working hard. Hopefully one day it’ll pay off and Natalie’s name will be renewed.

“What about the other guy?” Makoto suddenly remembers aloud. “Baxter, right?”

Kenny nods. “We don’t know too much about him, yet. I’ve tried to go and visit him, but the shelter always tells me he’s out working.”

“Mind if I go with you the next time?” Makoto questions, and he receives yet another nod in return.

“I’d like that, Edamura.” Kenny smiles brightly at him. “If we happen upon him this time, we’ll both get his story together.”

“And what will you do if you discover that the allegations against him are true?” Laurent asks. His question is one that has come to the forefront of Makoto’s mind quite a few times, but considering they hadn’t gotten the chance to discuss him yet, he’s always pushed it to the backburner.

“Then he continues to rot,” Makoto responds.

“He will have earned what he got if that’s the case,” Kenny agrees. “But we’re not going to know for sure until we talk to the guy. And he may have more information that we can use later on down the road.”

Makoto nods in agreement, before he takes a bite of his own food. “He’s also not in prison. He may be able to help us somehow.”

“Brilliant thinking, Edamame,” Laurent praises next to him, clapping a hand on his back in approval. Makoto wheels around to glare at him, but stops short.

Is it just him, or does Laurent look tired? He’s still sporting that stupid shit-eating grin of his, but his complexion is a little on the pale side and his eyes seem a bit more hooded than usual. Considering Makoto has spent the past week and a half almost constantly in the man’s presence during practice, he’s surprised he hasn’t noticed before. Either Laurent had a really rough night last night or he’s been working hard to make sure everything panned out alright without regard to his sleep schedule.

Makoto smiles a little himself at that thought, before he turns his focus to Cynthia and Abbie. It’s difficult to tell through the haze of inebriation painting her cheeks, but maybe the same goes for Cynthia, too. She and Laurent aren’t dancing in the competition, but they’re still both putting a lot of work into making sure everything goes how it’s supposed to.

It’s easy to sit and fume over how everyone here is a bunch of low-life assholes, but there’s also no denying just how much effort they give in their endeavors.

Either way, Makoto has a whole new routine to practice in the morning, so once he’s had his fill of lobster and a couple of drinks to help him wind down, he decides it’s time to head back to his room. He’s pretty worn out, himself.

He stops at his door when he gets the feeling that he’s being watched, and it doesn’t surprise him even a little when he sees Laurent smiling at him from a short distance down the hall. Makoto usually gets annoyed with him because it’s times like this that he goes from French Bastard to French _Super_ Bastard, but he’s still so elated from the way today went that he doesn’t have it in him to so much as scowl at the guy.

“I didn’t get to watch your performance today,” Laurent says as he approaches, “but from the sound of it, you did wonderfully. I just wanted to congratulate you, and to express my thanks.”

Makoto shrugs. “Express your thanks later. I’m exhausted, and I think you are too.”

“I’m perfectly fine,” Laurent replies easily, and if not for the way his eyes look right now, he can _almost_ pull off that answer.

Makoto unlocks his door, stepping inside. He hears Laurent follow, but he also hears the way those footsteps stop short. After shedding his shirt, Makoto pivots and sees that Laurent has limited his intrusion to the doorway.

“I won’t keep you up,” he explains in that relaxed tone of his.

“Did you think I wanted you to?” Makoto rolls his eyes.

Laurent chuckles somewhat. “Not so much thought you _wanted_ me to, as I thought you _expected_ me to. That seems to be our dynamic as of late.”

If he’s referring to the sex, Makoto kind of wants to punch him. But with his heart still firmly set on how tired Laurent looks, he instead heads for his room, grabbing the capsule toy he hasn’t yet opened off the dresser. He returns to the living room, tossing the object Laurent’s way.

Laurent catches it and then stares down at it. “…A capsule toy...?”

“Don’t open it yet,” Makoto tells him. “Open it in your room and just take the time to look at what you got. It’s fun—kind of like fortunetelling. It always seems to come back in some way later on for me.”

For a few seconds, Laurent surveys the object in his hand, before he tucks it into his own pocket and turns his gaze back up to Makoto. “You’re quite perplexing, Edamame.”

Makoto simply repeats his earlier shrug and turns back toward his room. “Go to bed, Laurent.”

“Does that mean I don’t get to kiss you goodnight?”

Makoto thinks that maybe Laurent is just trying to be funny, but considering the way things have been lately between them, the words linger in the back of his mind and he stops walking for a moment. To be completely honest, he’s torn about it. A part of him wants to run over and embed his foot in Laurent’s stomach for being such a shameless flirt, but another part of him wonders if a kiss goodnight would mean anything.

It’s a shame it’s not allowed to. Once this con is over, Makoto is going back to his normal life in Japan. No more getting dragged into things. And for that reason, a goodnight kiss that may or may not have meant anything can’t happen.

On that same note, it’s possible that Makoto should reconsider casual sex with Laurent, too.

In any case, he starts walking again. “Goodnight, Laurent.”

\--- --- --- --- ---

Training under Laurent is rigorous, even if only because of how perceptive he is. He’s got a natural gift for spotting and appreciating detail, and as a result, he knows exactly when Makoto hasn’t gotten a step perfectly or is starting to fall behind in pace.

It’s also a little embarrassing, simply because no matter what, Makoto has to listen to him. Laurent has complete control, because he’s the one who studied up on the competition and worked on the choreography. This particular dance is a lot faster in pace than the last, and Laurent took the time to explain first thing in the morning that he’s trying to show early on just how much potential Makoto has.

But that doesn’t make this any less frustrating. Makoto is quick on his feet as it is. He’s always been able to run fast and for a great deal of time—cardio is by no means his weak suit. No, it’s more about timing and how fluidly he moves from one step to the next, and the biggest problem is that while he’s learning, he eventually hits a point where the steps all come together in his head at once and the next thing he knows, he’s tripping all over himself.

After yet another misstep that has led to Makoto lying on his back on the ground, Laurent approaches and leans over him, holding out a hand. “Now’s a good time for a break.”

Makoto sighs, ignoring the proffered hand, and rolls over onto his stomach, pushing himself onto his knees. He gets to his feet and makes his way to a far-off side of the studio where they’ve been practicing. Laurent and Cynthia have managed to rent out an old dance classroom that had been waiting on new renters for over a year. As a result, they’ve got access to plenty of practice space and full-length mirrors on one side of the room. The four of them take turns practicing in pairs, with Laurent and Makoto taking the earlier portion of the day and Cynthia and Abbie taking the later one. The hours are long for both pairs, and as a result, breaks are relatively frequent.

Right now, though, Makoto needs one. His feet feel as if they’re on fire and his body is buzzing from exhaustion. This is only the first day of practice for this next routine, but Laurent is treating it as if it’s the damned finale.

“Explain it to me one more time,” Makoto pants around a swig of water, shooting Laurent an impatient glance out of the corner of his eye. Laurent doesn’t seem fazed by that, which is no big surprise. He simply shrugs his shoulders and leans back against the mirror, happy to repeat himself.

“These next few rounds are the most important,” he starts, bending one knee and bringing his arm out to rest it upon it. “Initially, there are fifty competitors. The first two rounds will eliminate ten of them. The third and fourth eliminate five. The following five rounds, viewers cast a vote that eliminates two from each night. In the course of nine weeks, you will go from being one of fifty to one of ten. During that period of time, it’s vital that you show them you’ve got the chops to stay in the competition. You don’t just have a panel of judges to impress—you’ve got to grab the attention of people watching from the audience and at home. On top of that, Madeline Bettany will be watching.”

Makoto has heard this explanation twice now, and it’s still a lot to take in. With each failed step or missed jump, he’s growing to realize just how much he has taken on. He doesn’t have to win—he knows that—but Laurent makes a very valid point in suggesting he try with everything he’s got. It’s not just about getting in close to Bettany, either. It’s about doing right by all the hard work everyone has put into it, and by making sure that Kenny doesn’t have to worry about his sister for much longer.

“You’ve put a lot of work into this too, haven’t you?” Makoto questions, staring into his water bottle and peering through it at the ground. “Coming up with dance steps and all.”

“Of course I have,” Laurent replies simply. “Mind you, I’ve had a little more time than you to do my research, but there’s a lot more to being a backup dancer than one might think. You’re not just the person dancing behind someone—you have to be just as eye-catching as the star. Your job isn’t to make them look good so much as it is to complement them in the middle of a performance. For that reason, you have to be good at _everything_.”

Makoto cocks his head at that, but Laurent explains before he can voice his confusion.

“This competition oversees various different dance styles. Bettany is a pop musician, but that doesn’t mean she won’t put on performances that include other techniques. You’ll be tested on your ability to perform with others as well as alone. This week’s round is solo, but you have to be ready for anything.”

“Which is why you’re being so hard on me.”

“ _Am_ I being hard on you?” Laurent’s tone suggests he’s genuinely concerned about it, which draws Makoto’s attention back up to him once more. When he sees the blond blinking at him, somewhat shocked by the accusation, Makoto outright laughs.

“Maybe you’re not being _hard_ on me, so much as you’re expecting a lot of me.” He scratches at the side of his face in thought. “I’m not a professional, but I have to come off as one, so I get it.”

“Well,” the teasing lilt returns to Laurent’s voice all too soon, “you’re definitely not going to win Madeline’s interest with your—”

Makoto lunches forward, snatching Laurent up by the collar of his _The Great Wave Off Kanagawa_ -printed button-up. “If you say my accent, I will _kill_ you.”

Laurent laughs, as entertained as he always is when Makoto lashes out. He keeps his balance from wavering by holding one hand flat on the floor behind him, while the other gently pries one of Makoto’s fists off his shirt. “Now, now, why don’t you take your rage out on practice instead of your teacher?”

Makoto narrows his eyes, but releases Laurent’s shirt and gets to his feet. He wrenches open his bottle of water and downs half of it, before he casts it aside and storms out toward the middle of the room.

“From the top, then.”

In all honesty, Makoto isn’t a bad dancer. For a guy with next to no experience in the field, he thinks it’s quite the contrary. With Laurent helping him maintain count through the introductory phase of the song, he can almost keep up with the intense step-kick-step-jump-land-spin that the dance calls for. The benefit to Laurent being responsible for the choreography is that he knows what he wants to see, and while it’s a challenge and he’s not exactly the easiest coach to practice under, he also knows exactly how to tell Makoto to move his arm or his waist in order to correct his mistake.

For that reason, they get quite a lot done during the day’s practice. Makoto has a general idea of what the steps are supposed to be, and even though he’s extremely sloppy still, he’s starting to get to the point where he doesn’t trip all over himself every time.

By the time Cynthia and Abbie arrive, Makoto is drenched in sweat, practically gasping for air, and still going at it. At this point, it’s more that he wants to master it quickly enough that he can refine all his movements for the rest of the week and not have to worry about slipping up in front of a bunch of people and a panel of judges. It’s not an outlandish thing to want, as far as he’s concerned.

“You’re all fired up today,” Cynthia comments as she drops her gym bag on the ground against one of the walls of the studio. Like Abbie, she’s clad in gym leggings and a tank top, ready to get a workout. “It’s a pretty big change from the childish arm-crossing thing you were doing just a week ago.”

“Yeah, well,” Makoto knows he looks proud of himself, and almost as if retorting to her, he crosses his arms then, “I’ve got reasons to do it that don’t just include lining the pockets of you assholes, so I’m pretty damned motivated.”

“Too bad I’m gonna kick your ass,” Abbie deadpans without so much as a smile on her face. Makoto thinks he hears it in her voice, though.

“Is that so?” Makoto sneers in response, his hands moving to his hips. He faintly hears Laurent exclaim a ‘whoa’ behind him, but he’s not paying attention to the guy right now. “Last I recalled, you were just going in for information.”

“I am,” Abbie replies as she starts stretching. “But I’m gonna get further than you no matter what my goal is.”

“Oh, we’ll see about that.” Okay, now Makoto is _really_ fired up. In all honesty, he doubts he’s going to be able to relax once he gets back to the hotel. Knowing him, he’s going to wind up staying up all night working on it. Hell, maybe he’ll impress Laurent tomorrow morning during practice by having the damned thing down to a science.

For that reason, he asks Laurent for a copy of the audio while they’re in their cab on the way back to the hotel.

“You’re going to practice it at the hotel, too?” Laurent raises both eyebrows. “There is such a thing as burnout, you realize?”

Makoto can’t imagine in this current moment that he’s going to get burnt out. That in mind, he crosses his arms once more. “I have a week to learn and perfect everything, and then next week, it’s a whole new dance. I’m not going to get burnt out.”

Laurent doesn’t respond immediately. He seems to be thinking hard about something. When he finally does speak up, his tone is almost matter-of-fact. “Do you know the steps well enough to practice them on your own?”

“You only pounded them into my head today,” Makoto replies with a shrug. “If I don’t have them by now, I’ll just practice the things I _do_ know for sure.”

Another moment of hesitation from Laurent, before he starts talking again. “Then I’ll come and help you.”

“No need.” Makoto knows he’s taking it a bit too far. He has a tendency to do so when he gets committed to one thing. “You’ll be the one getting burnt out.”

“Alright,” Laurent concedes around a lazy smile. “In that case, I’ll just come and watch.”

It would have been perfectly normal of him as Makoto’s coach to say something like that, if not for the fact that he chooses to follow it up with a wink. It’s one of those gross French bastard winks that tells Makoto ‘watching’ isn’t all he’s going to be doing.

“I’m serious about this, damn it,” he grumbles, turning and scowling out the window.

“I am, too,” Laurent says simply. “I’m just asking to be there in case you get stuck on something.”

Makoto almost— _almost_ —flips him off, but it occurs to him that maybe Laurent is being sincere. After all, he wouldn’t have put all this work into it if he wasn’t serious about it…right? Plus, he still looks a little on the tired side, and contrary to any hostility Makoto feels toward Laurent, he finds it difficult to be mean to that tired face.

“Fine,” he relents, letting out a sigh. “But the _second_ you start being a creep, I’m gonna slug you.”

It takes some work, but after Makoto and Laurent figure out where to move the furniture in the suite’s living area in order to create some space, they soon have enough room for Makoto to get some decent practice in. The only downside is the lack of a full-length mirror. Makoto hates to admit it, but he had relied on the mirror a great deal to make sure his movements made sense.

On that note, having Laurent supervise isn’t all that bad an idea.

Surprisingly, Makoto falls right back into practice pretty easily. While Laurent watches from the couch, which is now closer to the bar dividing the kitchen and living area, Makoto jumps right back into step, hard at work to make his movements more fluid and effortless. When it comes to the actual steps, he’s got it pretty well down—it’s more coordinating the rest of his movements with those of his feet that is the problem. God, how he wishes he had that mirror…

Laurent watches for a good ten or fifteen tries, before he finally speaks up. His tone suggests that he can tell Makoto is getting frustrated, so it’s no surprise when he approaches and moves to stand directly in front of Makoto.

“Like this,” he says, and in a strangely flawless display, performs a few steps with near-perfect timing. Makoto wonders in watching him if he’s been learning the choreography by doing it himself, but he doesn’t ask. Despite having been training under Laurent for well over a week, this is the first time he’s seeing the blond actually get up and dance.

He also allows himself the brief amusement of picturing Laurent making up dance steps in the comfort of his own suite late at night.

Either way, Makoto swallows his pride as well as his instinct to tell Laurent off and focuses on the way the man moves. Laurent shifts to stand beside him once he sees he’s paying attention, and they practice the steps together a few times, this time a bit more slowly.

When he’s honed in on teaching like he is right now, Laurent is actually a lot more tolerable. He’s so focused on instructing Makoto on how to make his movements look more natural that any sideways comments or blatant flirts are nowhere to be seen. It’s a reminder that he’s just as serious about this as Makoto and everyone else, and it’s also pretty flattering. It definitely makes Makoto feel a lot less disdainful about having Laurent as a manager.

And when Makoto finally manages to break through that frustrating wall that had been stopping him from feeling confident about those particular steps, he’s beyond elated. He nails the steps in near-perfect time, and immediately ceases dancing to let out a cheer of excitement. He tumbles over onto the ground, laughing, and stares up at the ceiling.

“That was brilliant,” Laurent praises from above him, standing with his hands in his pockets. “I have to say, you never cease to amaze when you’re dedicated to something.” Makoto knows that those words are spoken while recalling how committed he had gotten to the last three cons they had performed together. Many of the steps Makoto had taken during those times had been behind Laurent’s back, and they had all worked out despite it.

This time, when Laurent extends a hand, Makoto takes it and allows the blond to pull him to his feet. Breathlessly, he grins up at the Frenchman.

“Now _that_ was the burst of dopamine I needed for the night,” he thinks aloud, taking a step back. “I’m going to take a shower and start getting ready for bed.”

“Want company?”

 _There’s_ the Laurent Makoto knows so well. Once he realizes he isn’t playing teacher for five minutes, he jumps right back into being creepy. Big surprise, there. Makoto stares evenly at him for a few seconds, momentarily hell-bent on a fervent ‘no’, and then very suddenly _not_ all that hell-bent.

It’s just a shower, right? Just another potential hookup. It doesn’t have to _be_ anything. Makoto is on cloud nine right now, and he doesn’t think there’s anything that can drag him down. Getting laid after all that accomplishment might just be the icing on the cake for him.

It’s not so much that it’s getting harder to tell Laurent ‘no’ as it is that it’s getting easier to tell him ‘yes’. Makoto can’t stand the guy, but when things get heated, they just get so _good_. Whether he wants to admit it or not, the bastard knows how to be irresistible.

Treat yourself, Makoto guesses, sealing his fate for the evening.

“You’d better go raid that bedside drawer of yours,” Makoto tells him as he strolls off to the bathroom. Whether Laurent actually follows or not is up to the blond at this point, but either way, he’s going to enjoy his shower.

He turns the water on and steps inside once it’s just hot enough to soothe his sore muscles. Not surprisingly, he hears his door swing open and Laurent’s footsteps entering the bathroom within minutes. The suite has a big, spacious bathroom, and Makoto’s contains not only a massive jacuzzi-style bathtub, but directly next to it is a walk-in shower with intricate miniature-tile flooring and one of those fancy square showerheads. It’s roomy enough for more than two, quite honestly, so when Laurent slips in behind him, it doesn’t get crowded.

He feels the way Laurent envelops him from behind, resting his chin at the crook of his neck, and those arms slide almost too comfortably around his waist. Laurent noses at Makoto’s neck, humming pleasantly against his skin.

“I’m proud of you, Edamame,” he praises, flattening his palms out over Makoto’s torso. He runs them up and along to his chest, where he curls them tightly around him and just holds him there for a few seconds.

Makoto laughs almost sarcastically. “You’d better be. I didn’t sign up for this, and I’m _still_ putting my best foot forward.”

“That, you are,” Laurent agrees as his hands trace the outline of Makoto’s shoulders and then run down along the length of his arms. When those fingers close around Makoto’s own, he doesn’t put up a fight against the way Laurent guides them to the shower wall and props them up. He takes a single step backward and urges Makoto to lean forward a bit. “It was enticing to watch, you know. You get this stone-faced look of determination when you’re focused on something, and you almost look like you could conquer the world.”

“Who knows?” Makoto laughs again. “Maybe I will one day.”

“That sounds like something you would have said to me back in Los Angeles,” Laurent purrs against his skin. “But I’m a sucker for confidence, so…” He tips his head and nips at Makoto’s jaw, and then his earlobe. The sting of his teeth tugging at Makoto’s skin elicits something of a sharp gasp from the younger man, and Laurent takes advantage, sliding two fingers into his open mouth.

“Then again, hearing you like _this_ is also nice.”

Makoto feels his face flush at that, but he doesn’t protest. If anything, he spurs Laurent along by running his tongue along the underside of both of those fingers. When he feels Laurent shudder behind him, he closes his lips around the digits and sucks a little.

Maybe one day, it’ll be Laurent’s cock in his mouth rather than two fingers, but Makoto hasn’t prepared himself for that, yet. He can’t imagine the things the smarmy jackass would say in response.

Besides, he’s a little more focused on moving things along, and Laurent’s borderline groan in response to the way he sucks at his fingers does exactly what it needs to do to get things moving in the right direction. It doesn’t take long for all Laurent’s dirty talking to give way to the panting and groaning that instead comes from fucking Makoto in the shower.

Makoto is bent over with his hands planted on the shower wall, and unlike the times before, he’s not worried about being quiet or stifling himself. He moans and curses freely with every thrust, letting his mouth fall open with pleasure even as Laurent fucks him right into orgasm and his release spills out onto the shower wall and floor and disappears down the drain.

Laurent follows suit a few thrusts later, and for several moments, he stays there, still buried deep inside Makoto, his forehead resting at the nape of the smaller man’s neck.

It occurs to Makoto that this new aspect to their relationship is starting to become something like normal. While this is only their third time, Makoto realizes that he’s already gone from the mentality that it’s never going to happen again to the thought that it doesn’t have to be anything other than sex. Laurent likely doesn’t plan on it turning into anything either, and that’s okay.

But the way he presses a kiss to the top of Makoto’s spine _is_ pretty sweet. He pulls out and tosses the condom away, before he rejoins him in the shower and offers to wash his back for him.

It’s just aftercare, right? Something sweet and reassuring after a very busy day. Laurent knows just the right way to help Makoto unwind and settle down for a good night’s sleep.

But does he really have to hold Makoto like this? Nuzzling at his hair and trailing his fingers along his waist and hips while he helps him wash up…these are all things that a _partner_ would do. Laurent is surprisingly affectionate and perhaps a bit of a hopeless romantic.

Not that Makoto is pulling away or anything. In fact, there’s a point in time where he leans back with his head just below Laurent’s shoulder and lets the man touch him as sweetly as he wants. The contact is soothing after all that relentless practicing, and Laurent seems to know exactly what to do to make it better.

So he doesn’t fight it, even as Laurent accompanies him clear to his room for bed. It’s as Makoto slips into pajama pants that he finally decides it’s time to call it a night.

“You’ll be in tomorrow morning for practice, I assume?” Laurent questions, watching from a short distance away.

“Bright and early,” Makoto responds dully. “Try and sleep for once so you can keep up with me tomorrow.” He flashes Laurent a smirk, to which the man whistles in response.

“I’ll hold you to that, Edamame.”

“I know you can pronounce that right, you rich white fuckboy.”

Laurent just chuckles and starts out of the room. He stops in the doorway and turns, fixing Makoto with a broad smile. “Sleep well.”

He _does_ sleep well, too. It’s probably the best sleep he’s had in a long time. Thoroughly exhausted and all-but tucked into bed, he passes out damn near immediately.

\--- --- --- --- ---

The next handful of days are a blur. Makoto’s intention is to meet up with Kenny soon and try and find this Baxter Wiggins, but between practicing and cheering on the other two, he doesn’t quite find the time to do so. From the sound of it, Kenny himself is awfully busy, too. All of their rampant schedules seem to run together, clear up until it’s time for their first live round on television.

By this time, Makoto genuinely believes he’s got the routine mastered. His dress rehearsal went without a hitch, even in costume. It’s nothing major this time around—just a lazy attempt at extravagance via a long, gold-encrusted coat that damn near reaches his ankles, knee-high boots, and shimmering blue silken pants tucked into them. Beneath the coat is a white button-up that Laurent has insisted Makoto leave open down to the last couple of buttons. He looks like something out of a royal-themed drama, complete with all its inaccuracies, but it’s something Laurent is convinced is going to grab the attention of the judges.

Despite all of that, Makoto is beyond nervous. Even with Laurent, Abbie, and Cynthia at his side, he’s not certain he can pull this off all of a sudden. Abbie has already finished her performance, and she’s instantly become a crowd favorite. Their cheers and screams had warmed Makoto’s heart, and even though the two are silently competing against one another, it’s nice to see that she was received so well. Then again, he’s not the least bit surprised. Despite being as straight-faced and cold as a statue, Abigail Jones has a certain level of charm to her.

Either way, Makoto’s turn is next. The current competitor has finished his routine and is listening to the judges’ analysis, and it doesn’t seem to be going well. The thought of being on the receiving end of such criticism makes Makoto nervous and also reminds him that he’s not a professional dancer. So he learned a routine and spent a week mastering it. That doesn’t mean anything to a bunch of professionals used to judging _other_ professionals.

As the man walks off the stage and Makoto is instructed to make his way out, he turns an almost panicked glance toward Laurent and the others. Cynthia smiles at him, planting her hands on her hips.

“You’ll do fine!”

“She’s right,” Laurent agrees, his hands tucked into his pockets as per usual. “You’ve been on a roll this week. Don’t let the fact that it’s going to be televised get to you.”

Makoto hesitates only briefly, before his determination settles in once more and he clears his throat. He takes a few steps, before Abbie shoves him roughly forward. When he pivots around to snap at her for it, he sees her staring him down, combined with a very awkward thumbs-up. “Give ‘em hell,” she orders simply, to which Makoto outright scoffs. He turns around, a grin on his lips, before he heads to the designated area.

Out on the stage, he remembers exactly why these things are difficult for him. He can play a part all he needs to, but when it comes to mastering something that requires all this precision, it’s a challenge. He was able to figure out how to make the drugs for the Cassano case, however, so getting this performance right in front of a crowd should theoretically go just as smoothly. So long as he doesn’t get lost in thought and wind up missing his steps, he’s good.

The music starts, and light instantly floods the stage. On pure muscle memory, Makoto springs into motion. If he thinks hard enough about it, he can almost hear Laurent counting him along, and just the recollection somehow spurs him into each step. That’s right…he just has to treat this like he’s practicing with Laurent. No matter how irritating the guy can be, he wasn’t nervous once he got used to dancing with the Frenchman watching.

He pictures Laurent moving alongside him, teaching him each step and how to coordinate the movements of his arms with those of his legs. How naturally it had all come together over time.

There’s a sort of freedom in realizing how the week’s practice has led up to this. Makoto’s movements today compared to the very first day are fluid and almost easy, and with that mentality, he flows right into each step. For the briefest of moments, it doesn’t even feel like a learned routine—it’s _natural_ —and that thought has him thrilled.

Before he knows it, he’s finished the last step and has struck his final pose. Like that, he’s back in the present, staring through the intense light down at the panel and the crowd behind them. He’s incredibly surprised when cheers erupt from out behind the judges, and the smiles on the faces of those at the panel bring one to his own lips. He falls out of stance and bows forward, thanking everyone. He doesn’t even realize that his words come out in Japanese.

There are three judges. Two are older, probably in their forties or fifties, and the third appears to be right around Makoto’s age. The third one doesn’t speak up, but the other two seem to be very impressed.

“You know what I like about this?” The first, a woman with nearly white blonde hair, starts up. “It’s that I saw you in the preliminaries and thought ‘wow, this one has room to grow’, and you’re already doing so. You’ve still got a lot to learn, but I’m curious to see how far this competition will take you.”

Makoto immediately realizes that he’s not certain what connections this panel of judges has to the Bettany family, but he thinks this woman has a very kind disposition and finds himself hoping that she isn’t all that deeply rooted into the situation. He won’t know until later, because Bettany’s father doesn’t join the panel until the final ten, so until he wins the favor of Madeline or gets far enough to meet the man himself, this is all he’s got.

The second judge is a little more critical, but his words are constructive, and Makoto makes a mental note of each and every one of them. All in all, the reviews are pleasant, and Makoto actually finds himself thinking he’s going to survive the elimination this time around.

As the competition draws on, however, he’s not as sure as he was at first. The participants are all incredibly skilled in their own ways. They all have pretty powerful individual talents to bring to the table, and the good reviews come in more than the bad ones.

Before Makoto knows it, the fifty competitors have finished, and the judges request an hour to deliberate. Everyone is offered sports drinks and cookies to enjoy while they wait for the results.

Waiting with bated breath is putting it lightly. Makoto generally lives in a perpetual state of toeing the line of panic and complete calm, and right now, he’s not sure which he’ll fall into. He’s seated on one of the many chairs in the waiting area behind the concert hall. People are chattering excitedly around him, discussing their various performances, while he sits with Abbie and the others, nervously chowing down on the cookie he’s been given.

“Slow the hell down,” Abbie warns from over her own mouthful of cookie. “You’re gonna hurl all over the place.”

Makoto laughs nervously. “I’m not gonna hurl. I’m just…anticipating.”

“That’s an understatement,” Abbie comments, her eyes half-lidded. “If you ask me though, you’ve got nothing to worry about.”

When he glances up at her, Makoto sees a glint to her eyes that makes him curious. He’s only seen her smile once before, but he thinks this is something like one. It really does relax him. His nervous smile grows more genuine at the sight of it, and he also realizes in this moment just how much like family Abbie has become to him. Maybe she doesn’t see it the same way, but Makoto definitely thinks she makes a phenomenal sister.

And there’s also Cynthia. She’s usually right on par with Laurent when it comes to their schemes, but Makoto can tell she always has his back. It doesn’t show on the forefront, but he knows she’s protective of him and Abbie.

Laurent is…a genuine mystery, though. Makoto can tell himself over and over again just how much he can’t stand the guy, but at the same time, it’s him that he turns to for advice. And smug and overly confident or not, Laurent is always happy to help. As of this particular situation, Makoto holds at least some level of appreciation for him too. He’s working hard to make sure Makoto has the tools he needs to succeed.

“Thanks, Abbie,” Makoto finally responds, polishing off the rest of his cookie and taking a big swig of his drink. “I needed that.”

Abbie merely grunts in response, before a bell chimes overhead. Makoto doesn’t realize an hour has passed, but when a voice starts speaking over the PA system, instructing the competitors to return to the stage, he supposes it has.

He gets to his feet, suddenly nervous again, and follows Abbie and the others back to the auditorium.

As the competitors fill the stage, guests seem to be returning to their seats. The judges are already at their table, and the announcer for the show stands at the front of the stage. It takes a good fifteen or twenty minutes for everything to be ready again, but soon, the lights kick back on and the show’s dramatic music starts up once more.

While it plays out, Makoto finds himself gazing out into the crowd. Not far from the front, he can see Laurent and Cynthia seated, patiently waiting for the announcement. There isn’t a hint of concern on either of their faces. They’re both smiling as if they’re watching complete strangers perform rather than members of their own ragtag group of con artists.

Con artists, huh? Makoto finds it hard to use that term right now. He’s an actual competitor at this point.

“Welcome back to _Turn Up the Beat_!” The announcer, a tall young man with jet black hair and an unfair amount of charisma, starts. “As you saw, our first round was quite the intense one! Our competitors all fought with everything they had for a chance to move on to the second round. The judges were beyond impressed with most of them, but unfortunately, ten will be leaving us this evening.”

He paces before the contestants, microphone in hand, as he continues speaking. “But before we rush into the elimination, I should also point out that our top performer for the night will have earned themselves a fabulous opportunity—a meeting with Madeline, herself! Nothing like getting to see your idol in the flesh as motivation, am I right?” The crowd cheers wildly there, while Makoto gapes at the announcer.

He doesn’t recall Laurent saying that would happen, but it makes sense. If this truly is some scheme by Madeline’s father to help her find ‘love’, it’s only natural that she would get to meet up personally with someone whose performance was viewed as top-notch. See if they make a connection and all.

In any case, it’s time for elimination. The announcer calls out names five at a time, and it seems to be random whether or not he’s eliminating or passing them. The first group passes and is welcomed off stage with applause. The group after that is divided into one group of two and one group of three, and the group of three is sent home. This repeats, still seemingly just as random (maybe for the element of surprise, Makoto thinks) as the first set, until Makoto is left standing in the same group as Abbie. They’re two of the final five, and Makoto thinks that his heart may come flying out of his chest at this rate.

“Makoto Edamura and Victor Chase, please step forward.”

Makoto obeys, and he soon finds himself standing next to a young man with bright red hair and covered from head to toe in freckles. He looks to be several years younger than Makoto himself, and he also appears just as nervous.

The music intensifies there, as the announcer takes the time to detail all the good and bad sides of both competitors’ performances. He voices how the judges liked Makoto’s dedication, but how they felt like he still had a long way to go as a dancer, and then he explains that the judges liked Victor’s moves, but he almost felt robotic in motion.

Victor surprises Makoto as the music continues to pick up, by taking hold of the sleeve of his long coat and giving it a tug.

“Good luck,” he tells him with a broad, youthful smile that brings a nervous flush to Makoto’s cheeks. Eventually, however, he smiles right back at the guy.

“You too,” he replies, and almost as if in acknowledgment to their well-wishes, the announcer finally makes the call.

“Makoto Edamura, you’re going to the next round!” The crowd breaks into cheers once more, and then the announcer continues on, sending Victor home. He’s still received with plenty of applause himself, and the judges send him off with praise and advice. Makoto feels a little bad for the guy, but his own excitement for making it through the first elimination has him completely overcome. The two leave on different sides of the stage, not before waving to one another as they go.

Makoto finds Laurent waiting for him at the base of the stairs. Laurent’s grinning at him, his eyes borderline twinkling in the residual light coming from the stage, and he’s actually baring teeth, he’s smiling so widely. It’s one of the single most endearing sights Makoto has ever encountered when it comes to Laurent Thierry.

And for the first time ever, Makoto has to dig his heels into the ground to avoid caving in to the desire to launch himself forward and throw his arms around Laurent. He’s so happy right now that he almost can’t stand it, and he couldn’t have done it without Laurent. But the problem is, he doesn’t know what he’ll do from there. Sure, a hug and a thank-you are a definite given, but…damn it if he doesn’t want to kiss that smile right off the jerk’s smug face.

He simply can’t _do_ that.

“I’m proud of you.” Laurent’s words pull Makoto out of the stupor he doesn’t realize he’s fallen into until just now. He glances back up at the blond, but before he can say anything, he’s suddenly wrapped up in Laurent’s hold. It’s a simple one-armed hug, but that arm curls completely around Makoto’s shoulders and pulls him right into Laurent’s chest, where he gets a close up to the man’s warmth and the scent of his cologne.

He’s left standing there, his eyes wide at the realization of just how much he _likes_ that combination, and he suddenly wants nothing more than to slide both of his own arms up and around Laurent’s frame so that he can hug him right back.

Laurent’s chin is resting atop Makoto’s head as the announcer speaks up again.

“And our judges’ favorite performance of the night goes to Abigail Jones!” Cheers follow suit, and Makoto glances up at Abbie, who is standing out on the stage, looking as calm as ever, as the crowd goes wild and the announcer has to speak over their excitement. “You’ll get the opportunity to enjoy a meal with none other than Madeline Bettany at one of the best restaurants in the city! Use the chance well to get to know who it is you may be performing with in the future!”

“Would you look at that…” Laurent observes aloud, his voice silky smooth in an almost purred delight. “Round one, and she’s already putting the wheels into motion. That girl is a force of nature.”

“…Yeah, she is.” Makoto gently urges himself back, but Laurent doesn’t release him. Mildly irritated, he turns his attention up to the taller man’s face.

“It was a bingo dauber.” Laurent’s voice is so matter-of-fact that Makoto doesn’t exactly know how to process it. What the hell is he talking about?

“…Excuse me?”

“Your capsule toy,” Laurent explains. “A little purple bingo dauber. The symbolism failed to make sense to me, so I spent some time looking it up. As it turns out, the most commonly-used color here in the city for bingo daubers is purple.” Either Laurent doesn’t care that Makoto is outright gaping up at him or he doesn’t notice, because he keeps talking. “How that ties into your cute little fortunetelling statement from earlier this week is beyond me, but I think we should go play.”

“Huh?” Makoto cocks his head.

“Bingo,” Laurent continues, laughing a bit. “You and me. Tomorrow night. With purple bingo daubers.”

This has got to be the weirdest conversation Makoto has ever had with Laurent. But at the same time, it’s a breath of fresh air. After all this training and the pressure about the competition, getting out and doing something fun sounds like a great idea. Makoto thinks he could use a night out, even if it’s with this guy.

“Yeah, okay,” he accepts, breathing out a sigh as Laurent releases him. He steps back, scratching at the back of his neck. “That sounds like fun.”

“It’s not my usual way to gamble,” Laurent continues, before he winks down at Makoto. “But we’ll have a good time. It’s a date, Edamame!”

As he swallows down a lump of excitement, Makoto realizes he can’t bring himself to get mad at the nickname.

Besides, he’s got to go congratulate Abbie. She stole the show on the first night. She deserves a standing ovation.

That in mind, he pivots as Laurent steps back and Abbie descends off the stage. They’re both grinning widely at her. Cynthia joins them soon enough.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> don't ask me why i went with bingo y'all. it just happened


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> first and foremost, i just want to warn you guys that this chapter is a friggin' DOOZY. for those of you who aren't crazy about flashbacks/time-skips, this one is almost 13k words of a bunch of time-skips with a long flashback laced into the mix. i'm talking like lattice-level mixery here, y'all. i read over it like a thousand times as i was writing and when i was proofreading, and i think it makes sense, but you have been warned.
> 
> all that said, i'm still hecka excited to present to you this chapter, which i put a lot more work into than the previous ones. i had to do a lot of heavy thinking about how i wanted to go about it, but i think i achieved what i was going for!
> 
> a previous comment suggested that i list the songs i was thinking of for the competition, so i'll do that going forward! be warned: some of it is pretty self-indulgent and relatively based on my own tastes. it isn't all like that--i have one song planned way later on that's gonna be specifically chosen by laurent out of his own need for indulgence, but you get the point i hope lmfao.
> 
> there are two dances in this chapter. the song for the first is "iconic" by prototyperaptor, and the second is "everybody's angels" by down with webster. 
> 
> hope y'all enjoy!

The daylight filters into Makoto’s vision before his eyes even come open. In his state of barely being awake, he can almost make out the capillaries in his eyelids amidst the orange glow of light through skin. He feels a little overwhelmed by the sheer vibrance of it, and he decides that he’s only going to get past it if he allows himself to wake up fully.

The curtains are wide open, which he guesses is why morning blinded him so much. He sits up slowly in bed, rubbing at his eyes with the heels of his hands. His body feels heavy…tired, as if he’d spent the entire previous night up exercising.

But truth be told, he hadn’t practiced like he should have.

Makoto is naked, and the sleeping body next to him is too. Laurent’s passed out on his back with his arms over his head and the sheets hanging just below waist level. Even sleeping, he looks ridiculously good, with his lips just barely open and his expression so peaceful it’s damn near innocent. As Makoto’s vision clears, he finds it difficult to avoid staring down at that sleeping face.

Makoto thinks he should get up and start getting around for today’s practice, but he instead crosses his legs and faces the open curtains once more.

It’s funny, the rush that a genuine victory can bring you. Makoto didn’t come out on top and win the chance to have dinner with Madeline Bettany, but making it through the first elimination is victory enough, for a novice. He and Laurent are going to have to work hard to get ready for the next one, but the night out together was worth it.

How strange it feels to be thinking that. Makoto can’t remember when he went from not being able to stand Laurent to not minding his presence, but here he is, enjoying a sunny morning in bed with him, knowing full-well that he slept with the man again last night.

No…it was so much more than that. Whether Makoto will ever be able to truly accept it or not, there was so much more to last night than just a few rounds of Bingo and a hookup.

\--- --- --- --- ---

_“I still can’t believe you suggested Bingo of all things.” Makoto knows he’s running his mouth far more than he needs to, but he can’t bring himself to stop. Besides, it beats listening to Laurent go off about whatever he feels like discussing at that particular moment. Which is usually nonsense, or probably something related to the competition, and that’s the last thing Makoto wants to hear about._

_“It was your capsule toy that inspired the idea,” Laurent responds around a series of chuckles. “Of all people, I thought you would like that fact.”_

_Makoto crosses his arms. Presently, they’re walking to the venue where they’ll be playing the aforementioned rounds of Bingo. “Shows how much you know about me then, doesn’t it?”_

_Laurent’s smile says all—he’s not buying that answer for a second. And to be honest, Makoto doubts he himself believes the show he’s putting on about being unwilling to tag along. After all, he had told Laurent the previous night that it sounded like fun. He’s actually quite looking forward to seeing Laurent do something other than scam people. The closest to watching the man have fun that Makoto has come is seeing him and Abbie come up to shore from surfing at Cynthia’s villa. Everything beyond that has been some convoluted act._

_“I suppose it does.” It surprises Makoto somewhat that Laurent simply plays along with that, but maybe it’s because the two of them both know that Makoto is full of shit. In any case, he can’t back out of it now anyway._

_“Kudo will be here in the morning to oversee our practice.”_

_Makoto eyes Laurent for a moment, before he shrugs. “That’s what you told me before, when you were supposedly giving me good news.”_

_“Oh, that?” Laurent grins. It’s been just over a week since he said that. “I was looking for a reason to come visit your room.”_

_Makoto scowls visibly at those words. He doesn’t hesitate to wheel around and punch Laurent hard in the shoulder. “Screw you, you shady, underhanded…ugh, I can’t stand you!”_

_It’s just as bothersome how unaffected by the attack Laurent is. Sure, he reaches up to massage at the affected shoulder for a second, but he looks otherwise unharmed. “Well, that’s not entirely true…Kudo had told me he wanted to come and visit. It was harder for him to find a plane ticket that soon than he thought, though…but I booked one for him, due in tomorrow morning. Would you like to see the invoice?”_

_Makoto glares sharply at him, raising his middle finger. “I’d like to see you sit and spin, you lying prick.”_

_“I’ll make it up to you,” Laurent reassures—or rather, attempts to. His state of calm and lack of regret after such a confession doesn’t actually serve as any form of comfort for Makoto. It just pisses him off more._

_“Yeah?” Makoto finally questions, deciding to humor him. “And how do you plan on doing that?”_

_“I’m about to give you the most enjoyable night you’ve had since you came here,” Laurent explains simply._

_Makoto’s anger doesn’t subside, but he knows that’s about the best he’s going to get from Laurent, so he quickly shoves it aside and decides to focus on where they’re going. “I’m going to hold you to that. But it’s just Bingo.”_

_“You say that right now…”_

_\--- --- --- --- ---_

A part of Makoto had been half-expecting Laurent to still be lying to him about Kudo visiting. But sure enough, the little guy is here, smiling that big smile of his. Kudo is always so cheerful, and he’s been like that way as far back as Makoto can remember during his time knowing the guy.

“You nailed that last performance, Edamura!” Kudo states excitedly, in English. Every time Makoto sees him, it’s more and more obvious he’s been brushing up on his English. He really is getting better, even though Makoto doesn’t agree with Laurent that it’s better than his own. In any case, he rushes forward, hugging Kudo out of sheer excitement to see him.

“Sorry I couldn’t come sooner,” Kudo continues when they separate. “I _really_ wanted to, but with the competition and all, flights to Vegas were hard to come by…” He scratches at the back of his neck apologetically, to which Makoto shakes his head and waves him off.

“It’s not a problem, really.” He’s smiling as if he hadn’t been lied to about the whole thing by Laurent from the get-go. Or then again, maybe Laurent hadn’t lied to him so much as he had delivered the news under the blind expectation that Kudo was going to be able to drop in. In any case, he’s here now, which is a good thing.

At least, until Kudo speaks up. “I’m also here to help your guy here inspire some new dance moves. You’ve got to kick it into high gear if you plan on getting any farther.” He then withdraws his phone from his pocket and waves for Laurent and Makoto to join him. They’re all three gathered in the studio right now, because Makoto plans on practicing extra hard to make up for his lack of doing so yesterday.

The previous night is somewhat difficult to remember. Not because of anything cliché like Makoto having gotten so drunk that he can’t remember anything that happened during it. No…it’s more like so much happened that he hadn’t expected. It’s all a blur of strangely natural laughter and a full night of entertainment. But if Makoto thinks hard enough, he can remember certain conversations…certain interactions that had almost felt out of character for both himself and one Laurent Thierry.

\--- --- --- --- ---

_“Have you ever played Bingo before, Edamame?” Laurent is holding a small pamphlet of paper bingo cards he’s purchased from the registration desk, and he’s extending out what looks like half of them to Makoto._

_No, Makoto hasn’t played Bingo before, unless you count in mobile games on his phone out of boredom while winding down for the night or waiting for something interesting to happen. But in real life, with actual paper and purple daubers…yeah, no._

_Truth be told, he’s a little nervous. The Bingo hall is huge and brightly colored, but in a different way from the city on the outside. The tiles on the floor are somehow all different colors, and each of the four walls are a different shade of purple. It almost looks like a room a bunch of kids would be playing in rather than an entire group of adults._

_The common interpretation of Bingo is that it’s something solely dominated by the elderly, and while there are plenty of elderly folks gathered at the various white event tables scattered about the hall, there are also teenagers and adults of all ages. All groups, from families to couples to just the lonely person here and there, are scattered about, testing their daubers on blank sheets of paper and chugging away at sodas and coffees._

_“Not like this, no,” Makoto finally answers, his earlier irritation at Laurent faded for the moment. He’s so busy taking in all the bright colors and loud chatter and excitement that he can’t really focus on anything other than that._

_“Neither have I,” Laurent responds easily. “But the saleswoman at the front table explained it all clearly. I’ll talk you through it.”_

_Makoto stares down at the papers in his hand for a moment, before he nods. “I’ll go find us a table. Why don’t you go get us something to drink? I want a milkshake.”_

_As the two go their separate ways, Laurent surprisingly compliant to his request, Makoto damn near collides into a woman crossing one of the spaces in front of him. He immediately stumbles back, sending papers flying everywhere, before he belts out the quickest apology he can manage, complete with a bow._

_The one he’d nearly run into is a friendly-looking old woman damn near a foot shorter than Makoto with jet black hair and makeup plastered thick onto her face. Her lipstick is so bright red that Makoto wonders if it’s painted on. Either way, as he scrambles to pick up the papers, still apologizing, she raises a single hand from the slick-looking purple walker she’s pushing along and laughs._

_“You’d better make sure you pick them all up,” she jokes. “People in here like getting their hands on free Bingo cards.”_

_Makoto cocks his head, genuinely confused by that warning. “People steal bingo cards?”_

_“They cost money, son,” she explains. “This may not be a five-star casino hotel, but Bingo is still a gamble!”_

_“Oh, hey…” A voice next to the woman speaks up, and Makoto glances up after picking up his mess in time to spot a younger woman standing next to the lady with the walker. She looks to be maybe in her early twenties at the oldest. In her own hands, she clutches a tall stack of Bingo cards. “You were on TV last night…you’re the kid who screamed at us in Japanese.”_

_Makoto feels heat rise to his cheeks at those words. “Kid? I bet I’m older than you.”_

_“You’re definitely older than me,” Red Lipstick Lady comments offhandedly, earning a laugh from both Makoto and the young lady standing next to her. “Name’s Cyd, and this is my niece, Avery.”_

_Avery has long, straight hair that’s just about three shades darker red than Cynthia’s. She’s just a bit shorter than Makoto, with an almost wiry frame. She sports a beanie atop her head as well as a bright green hoodie and dark-wash jeans. She definitely doesn’t look like she’s in Vegas right now. The Nevada heat is intense as hell outside, with the afternoon just barely waxing into evening._

_She seems to notice Makoto staring at her clothing. “It gets stupidly cold in here,” she explains quickly, still smiling as broadly as ever. “Anyway, the games are about to start, so you’d best get sat down! It was nice to meet you, eh…”_

_“Edamura,” Makoto responds, smiling back now. “Makoto Edamura.”_

_“Gotcha,” Avery responds, before she places a hand on Cyd’s back, gesturing for her to start moving again. “Good luck tonight!”_

_“What was that about?” Laurent’s voice questions behind Makoto as the pair continue toward one of the tables in the back of the room. Makoto pivots and shrugs his shoulders._

_“Something like a traffic accident, I think.”_

_\--- --- --- --- ---_

“You’re absolutely out of your mind.”

Makoto stares down at the video Laurent and Kudo are showing him. In the video, which is taking place in a practice studio as well, a group of dancers are literally bending over backward and touching the ground with their hands. They’re so swift and smooth that Makoto imagines they’ve been training their whole lives to pull off moves like that. This isn’t something a two-bit con-artist can pull off out of sheer determination.

“Am I?” Kudo questions, still grinning. Not unlike Laurent, he seems utterly unbothered by the quick refusal.

“I seem to recall you saying something similar when I asked you to become a competitor in the first place,” Laurent adds.

“Participating doesn’t automatically make me a professional,” Makoto reminds bitterly. “I’m here to help, but I’m not about to snap my back in half for all of Las Vegas to see.”

Laurent and Kudo are both smiling, as the former speaks up. “I disagree. Besides, if you want to get further, you’ve got to be willing to take some level of risk. Kudo and I wouldn’t suggest it if we didn’t think you had the chops for it, Edamame.”

Makoto narrows his eyes at Laurent. “Yeah? And how do you suppose you’re going to teach me something like this out of the blue? In case you don’t recall, I busted my ass for a week _without_ being a junior contortionist and still just barely made it. We lost a day yesterday—we don’t have time for advanced shit like this.”

Laurent and Kudo exchange glances, and almost as if reading one another’s minds, they seem to get an idea. Laurent steps forward and Kudo steps backward. “The only way you’re going to see what you can do is to try it. Come here—let’s practice.”

“You gonna do it with me, then?” Makoto questions curtly, to which Laurent chuckles.

“Not a chance, I’d snap in half.”

“Screw you, then!” Makoto barks, but Laurent simply gestures for him to approach anyway.

“Please?” Laurent tries, before he extends an arm out and taps on his forearm with his free hand. “Look, we’ll start with me supporting you, and we’ll see how far you can go.”

Makoto spends a good handful of seconds just scowling at the proffered arm, before he achieves some level of contentment with the fact that Laurent and Kudo aren’t entirely wrong. He casts a glance at Kudo, who has assumed a spot cross-legged in the back of the room. He grins widely and provides Makoto with an exaggerated thumbs-up.

He definitely has to keep showing that he’s getting better. The judges had been pretty unanimous in telling him that he’s still an amateur, which means that if he’s not growing himself as a dancer, he’s not going to get far enough to so much as be judged by Madeline’s father, let alone help Kenny out with his sister.

He chews at his lower lip, before he decides to give it a shot. He strolls over until he’s standing in front of Laurent’s extended arm, and then he glances up at the other man and clears his throat.

“If you drop me, I’m going to kick your ass.”

Up close, Laurent’s smiles are even more powerful than usual. He knows it too, and it shows in the way he beams down at Makoto. “I won’t let you fall, I promise. Start leaning back, would you?”

Makoto scowls up at him once more time, before he concedes defeat and obeys.

It’s surprisingly easier than he expects, and with Kudo cheering him on in the back of the room, he can’t help but be spurred on to try harder. Before he knows it, he’s practically doubled over Laurent’s arm. He can definitely feel the stretch in his diaphragm and chest, but it’s not as precarious as he expected with Laurent holding onto him.

And that’s another thing—Laurent has a surprisingly strong hold on him. He lowers himself along as Makoto bends over, and if Makoto could see his face right now, he’s sure he would be looking at that same unwavering lazy smile all the way down.

Either way, once Laurent seems to deem that he’s gone down far enough, he speaks up once more. “Alright, now extend your hands and touch the floor.”

Makoto hesitates only briefly, before he obeys. Somehow, he has managed to almost completely upside-down with his palms flat on the studio floor. It’s a simple achievement, really, but he did it. It’s a move he can remember pulling off as a young child without realizing that it was an actual talent. He’d excitedly squealed to his mother about how he could turn into a crab.

Now, as a grown-ass adult, he’s still beyond elated by the achievement.

“Do you have your balance?” Laurent questions.

“I think so, yeah.”

“I’m going to let go, then.”

“Yeah, okay.”

Laurent’s strong hold on his back releases, and as he steps back, Makoto is left there, balancing on his hands and feet. He laughs at the feeling, before he spins and catches himself on his knees, getting back to his feet. He knows he’s grinning like a kid in a toy store, but he can’t stop himself.

“Let’s do it again, but faster.”

So much for his adamant refusal, he guesses. Either way, he and Laurent take their spots again, and the process repeats, this time a bit more quickly.

“You’re a natural, kid!” Kudo cheers from nearby, to which Makoto laughs yet again.

“I am, huh?” He knows he’s getting cocky, but when he gets to feeling like this, he can’t help but show off a bit. That in mind, he bends over on his own and attempts to catch himself on his hands.

He loses balance more quickly than he’s ready for. One leg buckles, and he faintly hears Laurent’s footsteps as the blond rushes to help catch him. In an instant, they’re both on the ground, Makoto’s weight resting fully atop Laurent’s arm. He’s embarrassed all over again, but before he can get angry about it, he notices something shocking.

Laurent is laughing. And not the cocky, arrogant chuckling he usually does. No, he’s genuinely _laughing_. His eyes are squinted, teeth showing, his body outright shaking. He looks so very relaxed and easygoing and just…natural…that Makoto can’t help but stare.

He didn’t even know Laurent was capable of doing something other than mocking him.

“You just went for it, didn’t you?” Laurent manages around his laughter, which is finally starting to die down. His somewhat deep voice sounds ridiculously good when he’s laughing, and Makoto finds he doesn’t want him to stop.

But when he looks up and past Laurent to Kudo, he sees that the old man is gaping at him. Something about that stare resonates with him, and his mesmerized expression falters, before he gets to his feet.

“I’m gonna try it again. Laurent, help me.”

\--- --- --- --- ---

_Bingo is surprisingly suspenseful. The hall goes obscenely quiet during each round, save for the computerized voice calling out the numbers every ten seconds or so. Makoto has come close to winning several times, but just as he thinks the caller is going to give him the I-19 he so desperately needs to seal a victory, someone else gets the win. Everyone’s cards are different and they all seem to have better cards than Makoto._

_Save for Laurent, who also hasn’t won a single round. In Makoto’s opinion, it’s a nice change of pace. Sure, Laurent is smiling calmly as he daubs away at his numbers, but Makoto knows without having to worry that the smile isn’t because he knows he’s got some secret victory coming up that he’s had planned all along._

_Unless he actually does…_

_Come to think of it, Makoto had damn near collided with those two very strange-looking people earlier. What if Laurent had staged that so he would drop his cards and get them mixed up somehow? It still seems a little extreme for even Laurent, but Makoto is starting to realize just how little he actually trusts the man when it comes to chance._

_With that in mind, when the announcer calls a fifteen-minute intermission before the supposed specialty rounds, Makoto grabs for his mostly-empty milkshake and takes a big swig on it, before he points the cup accusingly at Laurent._

_“Did you make those two almost crash into me earlier?”_

_“Excuse me?” Laurent doesn’t look or sound offended. His question is one of genuine confusion._

_“When I almost ran into them—the two women you saw me talking to. I dropped my cards…you didn’t have some hand in all that, did you?”_

_Laurent frowns for a moment, before he scoffs softly and takes a sip of his own drink—a bottled water. “I suppose I deserve that, considering the rapport I’ve established with you.”_

_Makoto cocks his head as Laurent keeps speaking._

_“This isn’t some big scheme, no,” he explains, glancing over at Makoto from his spot next to him. “It’s just Bingo, and we just so happen to not have the luckiest cards.”_

_When he sees that Makoto isn’t entirely buying it, he raises both hands in surrender. “I’m just here to have fun, I swear.”_

_Makoto hesitates, but eventually releases a sigh of defeat. “You’re capable of being a normal human being from time to time. Color me amazed.”_

_Laurent merely whistles in response, before he turns his attention back down to his last card. It’s riddled with purple marks from the last round, but it’s definitely a loser. “We’re supposed to be on a date—why would I obscure that?”_

_Makoto wrinkles his nose. “Who said this was a date?”_

_“Is it not?” Laurent’s look of genuine confusion catches Makoto off guard. Sure, he’d pulled the ‘it’s a date!’ card when Makoto had accepted, but he hadn’t honestly thought Laurent of all people would truly consider it something like that._

_Still, he huffs out a childish grunt and turns his attention forward. “You’re the last person I’m interested in dating.”_

_Just as soon as the words leave his mouth, Makoto almost regrets them. It’s not that he thinks he’d go and hurt Laurent’s feelings—the man is a lot more resilient than that, after all. No, it’s more like they don’t feel quite right. He hasn’t fathomed for a second that what they’re doing right now has any romantic intent, but now that he thinks about it, it doesn’t have to mean they’re actually together or anything. A few rounds of Bingo hardly constitutes a relationship._

_That in mind, he scratches at the side of his face, cheeks tinting red for a moment. “But I’m having fun. You get brownie points for that, at least.”_

_He braces for a retort from Laurent—a snarky comment about the way his words had come out with his accent or that godforsaken nickname—but nothing comes. Instead, Laurent simply scoffs and smiles around another drink of water._

_“I like brownie points,” Laurent replies, before he moves his failed card out of the way and focuses on the next one. “Now, the specialty rounds are a little different. You don’t just have to make a line. For this one, you make an ‘x’, and for this one, you have to get the entire card filled up…”_

_\--- --- --- --- ---_

Makoto doesn’t quite perfect the backbend move in time. In fact, he and Laurent and Kudo decide that he’s going to need to work on that one a lot more before he can hope to put it into a live performance. So rather than focus on that one move, they both decide to settle on something Makoto can still learn before the week is over.

Which is how he finds himself on the stage for his next round. They’ve somehow managed to perfect a routine within three days after having debated what to do for a full two. This week’s theme is ‘color and light’, so Makoto is sporting a brightly-themed tuxedo with a light-up tie as he performs his hastily-learned routine on stage.

Honestly, it shouldn’t be going as well as it is right now, but Makoto is strangely at ease with the movements. After practicing hard for as long as he has been, it’s relieving to be able to imagine that he’s got it down so well. Kudo and Laurent had worked tirelessly with him—they’re the only two familiar faces he’s seen for days.

But it’s paying off. And hastily-learned or not, this dance feels as if it’s much more intensive than the last. It’s not just the speed of the movements—it’s the timing. How he grids himself on the stage, and how each shift in the music’s tempo guides him like a wave. He falls into rhythm almost naturally, and he’s starting to realize in moving that he’s getting comfortable with himself as an amateur dancer.

His finishing move, for lack of the backbend they had been trying to learn, is something Laurent suggested. A slightly risqué attempt at making himself unforgettable—something Makoto had been initially against to start with. Still, as the music drops in tempo and the song errs on the sensual, Makoto slides to the ground on his stomach, rocking his hips and knees suggestively, before he pulls himself up with his hands, lowers himself back down, and strikes his final pose on the ground.

And it works.

Holy _shit_ , does it work.

The crowd roars while Makoto stays there, panting. The judges are applauding him, and even the usually-silent third judge seems to draw interest.

Once Makoto is at his feet, he’s elated to hear the good reviews. The blonde who almost always speaks first is beside herself with excitement, complimenting how Makoto pulled yet another bold move that showed his growth as a dancer. She’s praising his passion and dedication, and even the realization that Makoto’s still being a con-man by convincing them he actually wants to become a backup dancer can’t bring his mood down.

It’s no surprise that he makes it to the next round. When he’s called forward as one of the final thirty contestants, it doesn’t matter that he wasn’t the top performer again. Abbie didn’t take first place this time around either, but she still makes it through.

It’s the first time Makoto has seen her since he and Laurent went out to play Bingo together. So as they’re leaving with Kudo, Cynthia, and Laurent in tow, he moves to walk alongside her.

“You did incredibly well out there,” he praises, to which she shrugs her shoulders. Abbie herself is clad in a long sequined dress, but as they walk, she tears at the side of it to give herself a little more leg room. How she danced in it is beyond Makoto.

“You dry-humped the stage,” she comments back almost dully, though there’s some amusement in her voice. “Nice work, you little perv.”

Makoto rolls his eyes. “So how’d dinner with Madeline go?”

He sees the way Abbie hesitates there, before she snatches a bottle of water from a cooler as they pass by it. She unscrews the cap and takes a long drink from it, before she shrugs again. “She swore me to secrecy.”

“…huh?”

“No, she didn’t make a move on me or anything,” Abbie clarifies. “We just had dinner and talked. Nothing more.”

“Did she say anything interesting?”

“Do you know what ‘secrecy’ means?” Abbie questions dully. “It’s when you—”

“I know what it is!” Makoto snaps back. “Jeez, I just meant you were supposed to gather information…”

“I’ll get it at my own pace,” Abbie continues, sounding almost irritated. “And if we need to do something, we’ll do something. Now cut your voice down before someone overhears us.”

Well…Makoto can’t really argue with that. Pushing it would only ruin the good mood from his success for the evening anyway. That in mind, he chooses not to try and force any answers out of her. Instead, he slips back to walk alongside Laurent.

“Do you know what the next round is?” Laurent questions, a coy smile on his lips that immediately has Makoto reconsidering moving to walk with him.

“…I dunno that I want to know,” he replies, his expression sour.

“A team exercise,” Laurent says anyway. “Meaning you’re going to learn your dance in a group with fellow competitors. It’s a shame I don’t get to teach you by myself this time around. That’s all up to the lot of you.”

“Do you know who’s dancing with who yet?” Makoto is suddenly very nervous. He’s been so reliant on learning from Laurent that he hadn’t imagined he’d have to get out of his comfort zone like this.

“Not yet.” Laurent shakes his head. “But you really only have to do well this time—so if you don’t go above and beyond, it’s alright. They’re only eliminating five people, and if my intuition is correct on the situation, it’ll be the team that does the worst.”

“That seems a little unbalanced,” Makoto comments with a frown on his face. He’s met with a simple shrug in response from Laurent, who doesn’t seem quite as bothered by the circumstances as he himself is.

“I believe it’s intended to test one’s ability to work in a group,” Laurent replies easily, without missing a beat, “rather than to simply eliminate. It’s only natural they’d do away with the group that doesn’t set aside their differences and figure out how to operate together as a unit. There’s no telling how many backup dancers our star has, after all.”

“I guess that’s a good point,” Makoto agrees reluctantly. He’s not crazy about learning someone else’s dance, but he supposes learning to work with anyone is the name of the game here, since he’s training to be a backup dancer. Still, he turns his focus up to Laurent. “Will you be there, too?”

“Are you going to miss me?” Laurent winks, and Makoto fights the urge to cringe. “I’m still your coach, so of course I’ll be there.”

Makoto breathes a sigh of relief, his shoulders slumping. “I’m just used to your teaching style…or something.”

“Aww…” Laurent coos, before he reaches a hand out and ruffles Makoto’s hair. “I like you too, Edamame.”

He knows Laurent is teasing, but that doesn’t stop his gaze from lingering on the man there. As the time the two men have been spending together has increased, Makoto has noticed that Laurent has a tendency to say things like this from time to time that could mean two vastly different things. He’s a blatant flirt, so the obvious first conclusion is that he’s hitting on Makoto, but as they’ve worked together more, it’s begun to feel like there’s a little more weight to that.

As a result, Makoto has really come to enjoy practicing with him.

“The good news is we aren’t just being given a dance to master,” Laurent adds, changing the subject to something a little more serious. “As a group, your team and all of the coaches will be working together to come up with something that jives well with all of you. It’ll all work out. I for one happen to know that you’re extremely adaptable and will settle right in.”

Makoto finds himself staring again, before Kudo and Cynthia take either side of them, grinning from ear to ear.

“Another round with both our competitors still in!” Cynthia cheers, throwing an arm around Makoto’s shoulders. “Let’s go get some drinks.”

To be honest, Makoto could probably use a little something to take the edge off. That in mind, he simply grins up at Cynthia and nods affirmatively. “Yes, please.”

\--- --- --- --- ---

_“Holy shit, Bingo!”_

_Makoto’s excitement startles even himself. He has stood completely upright, one hand in the air, his mouth wide and an excited grin plastered across his face. Next to him, Laurent is still seated, smiling in nothing short of amusement._

_“You were supposed to say ‘blackout’ this time,” Laurent teases._

_“You didn’t tell me that!” Makoto retorts. Nobody seems to mind his misstep though, because the caller beckons Makoto to the front with his card and looks over it anyway._

_It’s the only win either of them got for the evening, but with a couple hundred extra dollars in his pocket, Makoto is feeling good about it anyway. He’s definitely got a lot more spring in his step as they leave the Bingo hall and start back out onto the street. They’re not on any of the more famous streets of Las Vegas, so it’s a lot less crowded here._

_“Did you know that most of the Strip isn’t even in Vegas?” Laurent comments offhandedly, and Makoto thinks it may be because he’s trying to start up conversation. Still, the fact that’s voiced is pretty interesting. Makoto glances up at him, both eyebrows raised._

_“What do you mean by that?”_

_“The internet told me it actually extends into a town called Paradise,” Laurent continues. “Even the welcome sign isn’t in Vegas. Pretty neat, right?”_

_As he’s speaking, they pass by a convenience store. It’s small and tucked away into the many buildings strewn down the street. But on the windows are advertisements of all different kinds. One is advertising a professional dog walker. Another, a maid service. But the one that catches Makoto’s eye the most is the big one with a picture of Madeline Bettany on the front, advertising the competition he’s currently participating in._

_His stomach damn near hits the floor when he sees this picture. His mind is suddenly riddled with flashbacks of the friendly Avery chatting with her aunt Cyd in the Bingo hall, full of smiles and also wearing something that was very obviously meant to obscure all her most telling features._

_“Edamame?”_

_Makoto doesn’t look at Laurent for a solid several moments, but when he does, it’s while he’s jabbing a finger at the poster on the window. “Th-That’s Bettany!”_

_Laurent shoves his hands into his pockets, scoffing a little. “Yes, that would be her. As advertised.”_

_“No, I mean—” He’s still shocked and it shows on his expression. “I met her! Before Bingo! The car accident, Laurent!”_

_“Excuse me?” Laurent is full-on laughing now, which only sends Makoto more into a frenzy._

_“She was in disguise!”_

_“Hey, not so loud, okay?” The aforementioned Avery’s voice just about sends Makoto into a coronary episode with how suddenly it pops up behind him. He wheels around, gaping at her, and she tucks her hands into the pockets of her hoodie. “I may not be, say, Kardashian famous, but it’s still a bit overwhelming if someone knows I’m around.”_

_Makoto’s shoulders slump a bit, before he nods. “Sorry about that. I just…I didn’t even realize it was you.”_

_“That’s the point of a disguise, Edamura,” Madeline replies, her voice just as sweet as ever. “I’m glad to know it’s working.”_

_“Miss Bettany in the flesh, then.” Laurent’s voice is calm and he makes it obvious he’s not going to freak out like Makoto had. “It’s a pleasure to meet you.” He extends a hand out, which Madeline reaches out and shakes. “So, why Bingo? Is it just a hobby you happen to enjoy?”_

_“I’m afraid it’s exactly what it looks like,” Madeline answers. “My aunt has taken me to Bingo ever since I was a kid. After I got famous, we had to switch venues, but we still try to go every week. With all this competition business going on, it’s about all that keeps me sane. I usually can’t make it during competition season, but a little birdie told me you’d gotten invited to Bingo, and I wanted to meet you.”_

_Laurent and Makoto exchange glances, before Makoto points to himself. “Me?”_

_“Yep,” Madeline lilts, her full lips stretching out into a grin. “I don’t get to be there until the final ten, but I got to watch you perform from home, and all I could think was ‘this kid’s not bad, but he hasn’t had a professional lesson in his life’.”_

_Her smile shifts into something more like a smirk as she sees the way Makoto balks in response to her words. “I like you, though. Whatever made you decide to start dancing despite your inexperience…I hope it takes you far. We should meet up some day, yeah?”_

_She extends a piece of paper to him with her name and number on it. “Don’t tell anyone we bumped into each other today.”_

_And like that, she’s gone. She strolls past Makoto and Laurent like it’s nothing, leaving them both frozen there on the sidewalk. Makoto follows her with his gaze for a second, before he turns his attention up to Laurent, who seems to be lost in thought, himself._

_“She wants to talk to you,” the blond finally responds. “That’s a good thing. You should send her a message in your free time.”_

_Makoto glances down at the paper in his hand. Madeline’s writing is messy and borderline illegible, but he can make out the digits if he squints hard enough. He feels uneasy about the situation. It feels less like she wants to get to know him better and more like she knows he’s in the process of infiltrating the competition. What is he supposed to do?_

_For now, he lets out a long sigh and stuffs the note into his pocket. “I need a drink. And not a hotel room service drink.”_

_Laurent glances down at him for a moment, before he pulls his phone from his pocket and starts scrolling through it. “I’ll see if I can find us a bar nearby.”_

_\--- --- --- --- ---_

It’s been over a week since that night. Over a week since Makoto had enjoyed a night out with Laurent, playing Bingo, drinking, and the long evening that had followed in the man’s suite. Since Madeline had given him that note.

By now, they’re well into their practice for the group dance. Laurent has invited everyone to the studio they’ve been practicing at, as it’s roomy enough for the lot of them to fit in more than comfortably. It’s obvious they don’t all get along, but their coaches are good at setting them straight. For the most part, Makoto is lucky that they’re all relatively mature about their differences. A pair of twins competing against one another happen to be in the group, and their status as siblings is obvious with all the arguing they go through.

They’ve selected a quicker pop song, with a lot of verses that would call for an entire group of backup dancers to move with the main performer. It’s got a heavy beat during the chorus, and the moves are going to have to be perfectly coordinated together for it to look as good as they’re hoping for without looking like a mess. So for today, they’ve mainly been practicing the steps and where everyone should be with each part of the dance. Most everyone here has some professional experience, however, which helps. In fact, the twins get the hang of it before anyone else, and Makoto is the last to fall into sync.

But he _does_ fall into sync, and after another hour of practicing their actual moves, they decide it’s time to let the next team in with Cynthia and Abbie and call it a day.

As a result, Makoto can finally meet up with Kenny, and the two are presently headed to the shelter to meet Wiggins, who they’ve been trying to find time to visit for weeks now. The shelter not surprisingly dismisses them after saying Baxter is out working again, but this time, Kenny pushes for possible locations, and they’re given directions to a couple of different places.

“It seems like this guy works an awful lot,” Kenny muses as he studies the paper where their first destination is scribbled down. “He’s never there when I come to visit. I thought showing up closer to evening would work out for us, but…”

“The guy used to be a chef, right?” Makoto reminds. “I bet he’s adapted to pulling all kinds of crazy hours, and with teaching dance on the side, he’s probably stir-crazy just sitting around in a shelter.”

Kenny nods as they approach their first destination—a gas station on the corner of two back streets. They both make their way inside, and Kenny approaches the counter.

“Excuse me, does Baxter Wiggins work here?” He questions. The look on the cashier’s face—a sort of brightened expression—tells Makoto they’re in luck.

“You mean Bax?” The cashier responds. “He washes windshields outside for tips, but I think he left for the day. You’re not cops, are you?”

Makoto cocks his head. “…No. Is he doing something illegal?”

The cashier laughs. “Not really—he’s just not technically employed with us. I don’t want him getting into trouble. They’re always looking for reasons to give him grief, is all.”

Makoto and Kenny exchange glances, before they nod their heads in silent agreement as Kenny speaks up once more. “We’re somewhat familiar with what happened to him. We may be able to help. Which way did he go?”

“He’s probably on his way back to the shelter,” the cashier replies with a smile. “I’m not sure what your plans are, but thanks for thinking of him.”

The two men shrug, before they start down the road toward the shelter. They walk in silence this time, too busy scouring the area for signs of anyone else. Makoto doesn’t know about Kenny either, but he knows that his own mind is rambling. The cashier had said something about the police constantly going after Baxter, but why? Is it because of why he wound up the way he’s living now? Is his bad name really still following him around?

He hopes against hope that the allegations against Baxter aren’t true, because right now, he genuinely feels bad for the guy.

It takes a good ten or fifteen minutes of walking before they spot someone approaching the distant shelter. Makoto, against his better judgment, breaks into a run, and Kenny rushes to follow him. They catch up quickly enough, just in time to cut him off at the door.

“Excuse me,” Makoto pants, working to catch his breath, “but are you Baxter Wiggins?”

The man he’s looking at doesn’t look very old. Perhaps in his forties, with long, wavy hair and a beard that he would probably look significantly younger without. There isn’t so much as a single gray streak in said hair. He sports a uniform with the company logo for the gas station they’d just been at. He looks tired and his pants are dirty, but his uniform shirt is as clean as can be.

“Who’s asking?” The man questions, his voice deep and rich, like red velvet.

“Edamura Makoto,” Makoto introduces with a bow. Next to him, Kenny waves. “And this is my friend Kenny.”

The man doesn’t look the slightest bit interested in what they have to say. Still, he speaks up. “Bax is fine. You need something?”

“We’d just like a few minutes to talk to you. It’s about _Turn Up the Beat_.” Kenny immediately seems to regret his words, because Baxter’s expression sours.

“Not interested. And here I thought all you interviewers were done badgering me.”

“It’s nothing like that!” Makoto rushes to explain. “Look…can we talk in private?”

Baxter still doesn’t look all that thrilled to be getting pestered by these two, but he shrugs his shoulders. “Fifty bucks apiece. Then I’ll talk.”

Makoto and Kenny exchange glances, before they nod their heads and reach for their wallets. Makoto supposes it’s a good thing he hadn’t spent all the money he’d won from Bingo.

\--- --- --- --- ---

_Makoto isn’t going to get drunk. As thrilled as he is about having won a round of Bingo with Laurent having not won a damn thing, he’s not ready to go partying about it. Frankly, he just wants to get his mind off of his encounter with Madeline following the whole thing. She’s going to sit at the forefront of his mind for the rest of the night, he just knows it. When in all actuality, he’s supposed to be on a date with Laurent._

_…A date. Is that really what this is? Makoto has been waxing back and forth between allowing himself to believe that’s what it is and denying it outright. But Laurent is still at his side, and he still looks as peaceful as ever. After having dedicated literal weeks to training Makoto for the competition, he still wants to spend time with him outside of it all. The guy looks good enough that he could have easily slipped off into a booth at this very bar and found someone else to occupy his time with._

_Instead, he’s passing Makoto a cocktail and leaning against the bar, his expression curious._

_“Don’t let it get to you,” he says, trying to look Makoto in the eye. “If anything, this is an opportunity. You may be able to get valuable information from her that would put an end to any need you may have to continue participating. Wouldn’t that be your goal? To get out of the competition as quickly as possible?”_

_Makoto pauses for perhaps a few seconds too long, before he shakes his head. “I don’t know anymore.” He swirls his cocktail a bit, before he raises his free hand up and scratches at the back of his head. “It sounds weird, but I’m having a lot of fun.”_

_“I knew you would,” Laurent replies, and his voice really is heavy with confidence. “You’re beyond talented at learning new things, and this one is…exciting. It’s probably nice to be in the spotlight.”_

_“I don’t know about that.” Makoto finally looks up at the taller man. “Sometimes, I think I might throw up from nervousness.”_

_“I can tell,” Laurent replies around a chuckle. “You get so worked up to start with, but you always somehow pull it off.” He then holds his hand up and starts pretending he’s speaking through a microphone. “Tell me, Mister Edamura, how is it you overcome the pre-dance jitters?”_

_Makoto stares at him for a second as he offers his pretend microphone out beneath his chin. He then clears his throat, slipping into character. “That’s an easy one, actually.” A smirk forms on his lips. “I just pretend I’m still practicing. I have a really good teacher who isn’t all that hard to look at either…”_

_The words leave him before he can put a stop to them, and his act dies as quickly as it started. He finds himself gawking up at Laurent, before he snatches his drink and downs half of it in one go. In a valiant attempt to change the subject, he cheers loudly. “Whoa, that’s good!”_

_He can feel Laurent watching him, but after a few seconds, the blond seems to get that Makoto doesn’t want to dig any further into what was just said, and out of the corner of his eye, he can see the other man take a sip of his own drink. He hums pleasantly, glancing down at it, before he nods his head in agreement._

_“I believe we’ve found a rare gem. The bartender here is incredible.”_

_Makoto glances at the bartender, a young woman sporting a long-sleeved white undershirt with a brown vest and short blonde hair painted blue at the tips. She’s got horn-shaped plugs dangling from her earlobes. When she sees that Makoto is watching her, she brightens and moves from cleaning the table to stand in front of him._

_“I get that look a lot,” she tells him, almost smirking. “Take it you liked your drink?”_

_Makoto sees the nametag on her shirt says ‘Lucy’. He smiles up at her and takes another sip. “Yeah…it’s insanely good.” He’s about to comment that he’s surprised this place doesn’t get more business, but a quick glance around tells him that the place is busy as hell as it is. Considering it’s not on the main drag, it’s honestly pretty impressive. That in mind, he turns his attention back up to Lucy. “Do you own this place?”_

_“Nah…that’d be the dream, though.” Lucy turns and starts mixing yet another drink as she talks. “Been here since I was old enough to drink. I love the work I do.”_

_Makoto finds himself chattering idly with her, surprisingly polishing off his drink during the entirety of the conversation. Faintly, he can see Laurent watching him, but he’s so engulfed in conversation that he doesn’t glance over to acknowledge it._

_In any case, Lucy lowers a drink before him, sliding one over to Laurent as well. “These are on the house. Be sure to give me a good word when you get famous, yeah?” She waves at them, before she moves to get back to work. Makoto doesn’t recall having told her he was competing, so he guesses she’s seen him on television. At present, the sets in the bar are advertising American football games, though, so Makoto isn’t one hundred percent sure._

_He finally turns to glance up at Laurent, who is still looking at him. Makoto is about to give him hell for staring, but when he sees the soft smile on the man’s face, he stops dead in his tracks._

_Laurent has a tendency to flash weird, flirty smiles at Makoto all the time. He’s done it since the two of them met. But this one…this one is softer. It leaves Makoto almost breathless, sitting there with his drink in his hand, gaping right back at him._

_For the first time ever, Makoto is genuinely contemplating leaning in and kissing that smile right off of Laurent’s lips. And not because he wants to hook up with him. He just…god, what even is this? His stomach is in knots and doing backflips all at the same time. It’s almost like indigestion, but a good type of indigestion. Like he might be sick, but not in a bad way._

_And none of that makes sense, but Makoto also feels like it’s the best way to go about describing it._

_He won’t allow himself to think that he’s gone and caught feelings for Laurent Thierry. Not when he plans on putting permanent distance between them once this whole situation with the competition is over. Neither of them have time for anything like that, and Laurent is definitely not the type to settle down with one partner._

_Or maybe Makoto just assumed that with the way he’s been acting all this time. One thing he can’t deny, however, is the way looking at that smile makes him feel._

_He glares back down at his drink, the buzz starting to sink in. His body feels warmer and his brain a little fuzzy, so it’s easier to just blame this random burst of deep thought on the alcohol. In the morning, he’ll wake up, and he’ll remember just what the situation is and just who he’s dealing with, and this will all be the stupid thoughts of a drunk guy._

_That’s right._

_Or Makoto thinks it is, until Laurent speaks up once more._

_“Let’s pay our tab,” the blond suggests. “I’d much rather take you back to my suite.”_

_Makoto hasn’t even gotten started on the free drink Lucy made for him, but there’s a power to those words that only Laurent possesses. It’s something that Makoto doesn’t think he has the time or energy to turn away from. Of course he’s going to go back to the man’s suite with him. He only knows this because he still can’t bring himself to stop thinking about kissing him._

_\--- --- --- --- ---_

“Alright, so what do you want to know?”

Baxter still doesn’t look all that willing to be in the presence of Makoto and Kenny, but he’s got his money, so he makes no effort to protest at this point. He has directed them to a diner a little ways down the street, where he has also insisted they front the bill for the pancakes and bacon he’s ordered. Neither of them are all that hungry, so they simply watch him eat while they prepare to ask their questions.

“You were fired for sexual harassment,” Kenny starts, sipping at a coffee he ordered. Makoto stares into his own while he listens in. “Seems straightforward enough, but is it true?”

Even though Makoto isn’t looking up from his drink, he can feel Baxter’s gaze radiating from the other side of the diner booth.

“You guys aren’t gonna believe a damn word I say with an accusation like that.”

Makoto looks up there. “We’re not accusing you, I promise.”

“It’s actually the opposite, Bax,” Kenny continues. “You see, the one arrested for theft before you were fired is my sister, and she also happens to be innocent. I’d just like to hear your story.”

Understandably, Baxter still seems hesitant. But Kenny’s words to appear to resonate with him on some level. Makoto can tell he’s giving the situation some genuine thought. He stuffs another bite of pancakes into his mouth, chews, and releases a long sigh.

“Joke’s on her, honestly,” Baxter finally says, shrugging his shoulders. “I’m gay. I told her I liked her hair after she colored it red, and that was it. She didn’t seem to take offense to it, but her father spoke to me privately, accusing me of asking for sexual favors as payment.” He takes another bite, this time speaking around it. “My husband left me once he heard what happened. Parents took their children out of my class, and my restaurant job fired me. Next thing I knew, I wound up here.”

Makoto genuinely contemplates those words. “Did you by any chance tell her or her father that you were gay?”

Baxter shrugs. “I figured she knew. We talked together one night about celebrity crushes, and I thought I made it pretty obvious.”

“You may have, actually,” Kenny continues. “See, my sister was wrongfully accused of theft presumably because she turned down Madeline’s sexual advances on her. We’re not completely sure on that, but we’re looking into it.”

Baxter outright laughs. “I fail to see what two regular old joes who don’t claim to be cops can do about something like that.”

Makoto shrugs. “I have my ways. And if I get what I want out of this whole thing, you won’t have to worry about being looked down upon anymore. With any luck, you’ll get your job back.”

“Screw that,” Baxter scoffs in response, “just get the accusations off my name so I can get a normal job in the first place. If that place didn’t believe me, I don’t want anything to do with their sorry asses anymore.”

Makoto nods. “I’ll do my best. Thank you for your time tonight, Bax.” He slaps enough cash to pay the bill for the diner onto the table, and he and Kenny get up to leave.

As they’re departing, Makoto’s mind is racing. It’s so much so that he barely hears what Kenny says once they’re a block or so away.

“Do you think he really is innocent?”

Makoto ponders the question, before he nods his head. “I think he comes off as a bit of a jerk right now, but that’s because of what has happened to him. He said it himself—he doesn’t bat for that team.”

“Saying and doing are two totally different things, though.” Kenny frowns as he speaks. “There are two sides to every story, and there’s no telling how that actually went.”

“You’re right.” Makoto stares down at the ground, his tone resolute despite his posture and body language. “But I think I may be able to get to the bottom of it. I got Madeline’s number.” He fishes through his pocket, pulling out the piece of paper he had gotten from her on his night out with Laurent. “I think I may be able to figure this out, Kenny. We’re going to save your sister, and we may even stand a chance at clearing Bax’s name.”

“Provided he’s not a piece of shit,” Kenny scoffs in reply.

“Provided he’s not a piece of shit,” Makoto repeats.

\--- --- --- --- ---

_This time, there are no arguments, and Makoto makes zero effort to call Laurent a pest. No, the instant they’re behind the closed doors of his suite, Makoto is up against the wall with Laurent hovering over him, the faint fuzzy sensation from the alcohol giving his aura almost a hum with him this close._

_The kiss is…sweet. Laurent has one forearm propped up against the door while the other is on the side of Makoto’s neck, tipping his head up so that he can kiss him properly. And Makoto makes no effort to protest. He kisses back just as sweetly, and just like he had wanted to the previous night, he brings his arms up and wraps them around Laurent’s body, his hands coming to rest at his shoulder blades._

_What are they doing?_

_What were they doing in the first place? Why is Laurent being so gentle right now? This feels less and less like a hookup as the moments pass, but Makoto isn’t about to push the man away even knowing that fact. He likes the lingering sweetness of the cocktail on Laurent’s tongue, and the almost careful way with which the man handles him as he guides him away from the door._

_Makoto’s heart is pounding wildly in his chest. They’ve had sex so many times before, but it had all seemed so…accidental. Convenient. Laurent was naked in the pool the first time. Laurent happened to be in Makoto’s room the second time. They’d been high on excitement from the dance the third time. This? This was blatantly offered to Makoto before they’d even left the bar, and Makoto didn’t so much as attempt to protest._

_Why?_

_The answer’s simple, honestly. It’s because he wants it._

_Laurent breaks off the kiss only long enough to reach the bedroom, where he works Makoto’s shirt open and shoves it off his shoulders. Makoto is halfway through impatiently doing the same with Laurent’s shirt when the man works open his belt and fly and shoves his pants down._

_“Let’s go swimming,” he purrs into the kiss, to which Makoto outright scoffs._

_“You mean skinny-dipping?”_

_Laurent laughs against Makoto’s lips, spurring the smaller man to resist the urge to reach up and twist the fucker’s nipple clean off._

_“Don’t you even dare,” Makoto warns, but Laurent simply cups both sides of his face into his hands and smiles broadly down at him._

_“You’re so damned cute, Edamame.”_

_They’re kissing again, and Makoto finds he has no urge to back out of the offer now. He doesn’t fight it even when he winds up completely naked, standing outside on the pool’s patio. Makoto backs up toward the edge of the water, and just as he’s about to turn and climb in, Laurent shoves him._

_He almost feels as if he’s falling in slow-motion, watching that lazy smile form on Laurent’s lips as he disappears beneath the surface. He allows himself to sink, even the sudden chill of the water having no effect on him, and he then pivots when Laurent jumps in next to him._

_Underwater, Laurent is even more beautiful. The current steals control of his hair, giving it an almost graceful appearance as it swishes in the water’s hold. Laurent glances at him, before he surfaces, and Makoto follows suit._

_He comes up grinning. “You didn’t have to shove me in!”_

_“It makes you adjust more easily to the cold. The desert nights here do get pretty chilly.”_

_“Bastard,” Makoto growls, before he flicks a burst of water in the other man’s direction. The splash, tiny as it is, is surprisingly accurate, and lands right in Laurent’s eye._

_Laurent’s only response is to use his arm to splash a bigger wave toward Makoto, who raises an arm to block it. But the instant he lowers his arm, Laurent is right in his face. He feels those hands take hold of both his upper arms, and then he’s being shoved beneath the water again, all the way down to the bottom, where Laurent captures his lips yet again._

_Underwater kisses are the polar opposite of graceful. Makoto, despite the pleasantness of the kiss, lets out a burst of air bubbles through his nose, effectively separating the both of them. When he surfaces, he splashes at Laurent once more. “What part of you thought that was going to work!?” He chokes._

_Laurent is genuinely laughing. God, that laugh is so unfair. He loses some of his hard-earned refined appearance when he does so, but that’s just another aspect to him that Makoto can’t help but be attracted to._

_“I just wanted to give it a try,” the blond answers._

_“You’re so stupid sometimes!” Makoto argues, laughter bubbling up in his own throat. Before he knows it, he’s chuckling right along with Laurent. “Maybe give me some warning next time.”_

_Laurent swishes in close once more. “That’d spoil the surprise, though.”_

_“Surprise, nothing,” Makoto scoffs, still giggling a little. He looks away, but Laurent reaches up to touch his face once more. It’s all-too-soothing how smooth his fingertips feel running along the side of Makoto’s cheek._

_“But if you want a totally-unsurprising, standard, run-of-the-mill pool kiss, I can also give you that.” Laurent spares no hesitation as he leans in, capturing Makoto’s lips against his own once more._

_It doesn’t take anything for Makoto to throw his arms around the man’s shoulders again, falling complete victim to Laurent’s allure for what feels like the umpteenth time now._

_It is pretty romantic, though. Kissing like this, with the Las Vegas backdrop to add to the moment. Makoto will at least give the man credit for that much._

_Even though the credit belongs mostly to Vegas._

_\--- --- --- --- ---_

It’s a last-minute decision. Makoto still doesn’t know how he feels about it, but he’s going to roll with it because they don’t have the time to figure anything else out. It worked during dress rehearsal, so it’s going to have to work during the performance.

Laurent and one other coach had made the suggestion just a day before dress rehearsal. The group’s dance practices had been going well, and everyone had come together pretty smoothly in the end, but they’d both been under the impression that they needed something else. A little edge to their performance that would make them stand out. Something to grab the attention of the judges as well as the audience, and to make their dancers worth seeing through to the end of the competition.

There are three male dancers and two female ones—the twins. It has been decided that while the female dancers will sport tuxedo vests, bow ties, and dress shoes, the men will be in dresses and heels.

Makoto is only a little hesitant because it’s a true test of balance to wear these things, and he definitely doesn’t think he pulls off the feminine look quite as well as he should, but getting through this competition is paramount, and he can’t disagree that this will give them just the shock value they need to power through.

And you know what? Screw gender roles. This is a subversion of precisely that. If that doesn’t gain the surprise and interest of viewers, Makoto isn’t sure what will.

He’s so used to going along with anything Laurent wants at this point, anyway. It’s all worked out so far.

He and the other four dancers step out onto a stage that is intentionally darkened, and the twins take the front. They look damn good in their suits, with matching top hats to go with them. The dance is heavily upbeat, with quite the poppy influence, so this should fit perfectly and capture even Madeline’s interest. The girls start out the dance flawlessly, moving in seamless harmony with one another. Everything from their steps to their spins and the movements of their arms are perfect. They’re lip-syncing along with the voice on the song, and the crowd roars in approval.

And then the beat kicks up and the chorus is introduced, at which time the lights flash on completely, introducing the male dancers, dresses and heels included. Makoto forces himself to think about the dance and not how envious he is of everyone else’s graceful movements, and immediately falls into step.

The outfit suggestion is a hit. The audience is already raving about the girls in their suits, looking beyond attractive in their getups, so when the boys are suddenly rocking their dresses and heels and moving in unison as well, it steals the show. The lights are almost blinding, flashing in bright yellows and purples and blues to the beat of the song, but Makoto slides himself back into dress rehearsal, where he’d had every move down to a science, and he performs on that recollection alone.

He doesn’t have time to look over and see if he’s moving in sync with his teammates, but the beat carries him on, and as the boys drop to their knees and roll their hips upward once, the girls coming up between them to strike a squatted down pose, the music cuts off, and the audience erupts in cheers.

Yet again, they have somehow pulled this off. Makoto can’t imagine with that kind of response that they will be going home. His feet are dying in these heels, but he’s beyond elated. He glances to the twin standing next to him, who grins and offers a hand to help him upright.

And then they’re all wrapped up in a group hug. While the crowd still goes wild, Makoto lavishes in the way it feels to be surrounded by these people. He’s laughing and cheering right along with them, and he only separates to regard the judges as they speak up.

He’s out of breath, practically gasping for air. His heart is pounding and his legs feel like Jell-O, but he can’t stop smiling. The judges are raving about them, and he knows beyond any shadow of a doubt that their team is going to advance to the next round.

Take that, Madeline or Avery or whoever the hell you are.

When he finally descends off the stage, he makes quick work of kicking his heels off. Kudo and Laurent are awaiting him, and as the rest of his group seeks out their own coaches, Makoto doesn’t relent this time. He throws his arms around both Kudo and Laurent and bursts out laughing.

Kudo is laughing right alongside Makoto, but he notices that Laurent isn’t. When he glances up at the blond, he can’t help but think that the other man seems to have something on his mind. Despite having returned the embrace, he’s staring straight ahead of him, his lips just barely parted, as if he’s lost in thought. Makoto notices a faint pink flush on his cheeks, so when he steps back, he grins, laughs, and gently pops Laurent on the chest.

“I know…it’s easy to fall for me after a show like that,” he teases. Laurent turns his gaze down to him, and still doesn’t say a damn word.

Makoto isn’t sure whether his heart is leaping or falling.

What in the hell just happened?

\--- --- --- --- ---

_Sex with Laurent feels so natural anymore. Whether it’s just a casual hookup or sex on the first date, Makoto doesn’t care. What matters to him is just how good Laurent is. His movements are purposeful and slow, as if he’s trying to draw out every last sensation, and considering they’re fucking at the edge of a pool right now, Makoto can understand why._

_He feels the burn of the concrete on his back with every thrust, but it’s nothing compared to the delicious friction of Laurent moving inside of him. And on top of that, Laurent practically envelops him right now. They’re both out of the water, with Makoto’s legs wrapped tightly around Laurent’s waist and his arms gripping the best they can around his back with how wet their skin is from swimming._

_But it’s got its own awkward level of perfection to it. Laurent’s face is buried in the crook of Makoto’s neck while he moves, and Makoto can both hear and feel the little grunts of pleasure he lets out every time he moves. His own mouth is hanging wide open, turned toward that tinted Vegas sky and letting spill his own pleasured gasps and pants. Laurent’s name falls from his lips as he brings a hand up to embed it in that thick blond hair._

_Makoto isn’t drunk anymore. He knows what this is. Chances are, he’d have probably stolen away to Laurent’s room even without the influence of alcohol. But right now, in the heat of the moment, he can cast aside the concern he’d had about the other man’s lingering stares and the way that had made him feel when it had happened._

_Right now, all he can really focus on is how close he is—how desperate Laurent is starting to sound, which indicates the other man isn’t far off either._

_The fact that they both hit their release at the same time is probably telling of something too, but Makoto can’t think much of it. Instead, he turns his head to the side and revels in the cool feeling of the concrete on his cheek as he bucks down shamelessly and rides out his orgasm right on Laurent’s cock._

_They both fall still together, and when Laurent pulls out, Makoto’s legs go weak. He lets them fall to the ground and instead focuses on the way Laurent doesn’t leave him immediately. His face is still buried in Makoto’s neck, and Makoto knows he shouldn’t be stroking at Laurent’s hair like he is right now, but here he is._

_And that kiss once it’s all said and done. Fuck, that kiss…_

_Laurent’s languid kisses are something Makoto is starting to realize he’s growing attached to. They’re just on the borderline of sloppy and composed, slow and needy, and Makoto could sit and make out with him for hours on the way it feels alone. He should know what that means, but he chooses to ignore it for now._

_Laurent eventually breaks off the kiss and gets up, offering a hand to Makoto, who takes it. His legs are shaky, but he regains his balance soon enough and staggers his way into the suite once more. He’s not sure he has words to say in the moment, so he instead focuses on helping get Laurent and himself cleaned up. He dries the pool water off of him with a towel and then slips into his underwear._

_He can feel Laurent watching him as he crawls into the other man’s bed, but even Laurent seems at a loss for words. No smug comments, no shameless flirting. He just makes his way into the bed alongside Makoto and crawls into it with him._

_Initially, Makoto faces away from him, but when he feels Laurent’s hand on his back, he hisses a little in pain. Right…the rugburn or concrete-burn or whatever the hell it’s called. Slightly embarrassed, he turns around and faces Laurent instead of giving him his back._

_“We probably should have come to bed for that,” Laurent muses as Makoto faces him._

_Makoto shakes his head. “You suggested we go swimming.”_

_“Don’t you mean skinny-dipping?” Laurent teases, to which Makoto shoves his hand in the man’s face, pushing his head upward._

_“Shut up, you’re ruining the moment.”_

_“Oh…there’s a moment, is there?” That lackadaisical Laurent Thierry smile resurfaces there, and Makoto almost groans aloud in disappointment._

_Almost._

_Because he’s actually not as bothered about it as he used to be._

_“Yeah, before you ruined it.”_

_“I was concerned about your back,” Laurent chuckles a little, before he leans in and steals yet another kiss. “But I can give you another moment, free of teasing…”_

_Makoto hates how easy it is to melt into that kiss and the words spoken against it. Their lips brush even as the kiss breaks, and he knows he’s not going to be able to say no. In just moments, they’re right back where they started, with Laurent’s tongue teasing at the seam of Makoto’s lips and his hand moving down to push the underwear off his hips._

_\--- --- --- --- ---_

Following the performance, Makoto’s heart is heavy. He’s been having so much fun in this competition that he didn’t realize just how engulfed in it he’s become. More and more, it’s starting to feel less like a big thought-out heist via Team Confidence and more like something he’s doing for fun. At the same time, he knows it can’t be that way, because he’ll never be a professional dancer like everyone else who is trying so hard to show that.

In his hand, he clutches the phone number Madeline had written down for him. He’s definitely advanced to the next round, and as promised to Kenny, he intends to phone Madeline up and talk to her in more depth about the situation.

The girl herself is difficult to read. Makoto doesn’t know much about her, but in the Bingo hall, she was friendly. Outside of it, however, she was almost taunting. On top of that, there’s the mention from Kenny about how Natalie hadn’t suspected Madeline of any ill intent, and how Baxter himself had voiced that they’d had a good conversation and seemed to be on good terms with one another before the confrontation with her father.

Is he going to unearth any information at all? He has to be delicate about how he asks, and if he pushes things too far, he could probably see himself out of the competition right then and there.

He’s not ready to give all of that up yet, that much is for sure.

Still, he pockets the note as well as his thoughts on the matter by reminding himself that if he fails, Abbie still has a chance at success.

He’s walking alongside Laurent and Kudo into their hotel, and as the elevator doors close, he speaks up. He’s since changed out of his costume and now sports a striped hoodie and khaki pants.

“I’m going to go talk to Madeline, hopefully tonight.”

Laurent doesn’t look surprised, but Kudo is practically alight with confusion.

“How?” The older man questions, genuinely shocked.

“I have her number,” Makoto answers. “It’s a long story—I’ll leave it up to Laurent to explain it to you.” A quick glance at Laurent earns him a nod of understanding. “But I need to know who she is. All these people…they’re so dedicated to what they’re doing. Our team worked so hard for tonight, and the other teams probably did the same. Whoever wins…I don’t want to see them go down like Natalie and Bax did.”

“Bax?” Laurent repeats, curious.

“Baxter,” Makoto answers dryly. “In any case, we’ve got people’s livelihoods to save, so I need you guys to count on me for tonight. I won’t be out long.”

“I’ll have my phone on me,” Laurent says quickly, to which Kudo nods and holds up his own. “If anything happens—”

“—I know what to do.”

Makoto fixes them both with a smile, claps a hand on either of their backs, and steps out as the elevator door slides open.

This is his final run with Team Confidence. He’s got to make sure it’s a successful one. And if he succeeds in gathering information from Madeline tonight, maybe he’ll earn himself a little more praise from Laurent.

His stomach does a backflip when he realizes he’s actually craving that. But he tries to suffice his thoughts by reminding himself that it’s been since their supposed date night since they last hooked up.

Not a whole lot makes much sense, anymore. Makoto has made a strange amount of peace with that fact.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> and this is the part where i pour out my emotions to y'all because you have literally breathed SO MUCH LIFE into this fic like words cannot even describe
> 
> i have never received 22 comments on one chapter of ANYTHING i have written before, and three chapters in, this fic is at 65 bookmarks and 400 kudos??? almost 4000 hits, my mind is BLOWN. i just want to say thank you guys so much for all the love you have given this work. writing is hard work, especially when your job drains the shit out of you and leaves you too tired to write most times. it's during those long work days that i've seen comments y'all have left and noticed the uptick in kudos and hits and bookmarks. you guys have truly helped me to feel like what i'm making is appealing to everyone.
> 
> this story all started with a prompt from a friend. i asked him to give me some ideas for writing and he suggested a fic where laurent and makoto go skinny-dipping, and what was initially intended to be one chapter of porn wound up being a 5+1 with a shit ton of porn but also FEELINGS. i've gone and gotten so emotionally invested into writing this and it's just such a good feeling to see that it's reaching out to so many others.
> 
> so while this may be a glorified smutfic, thank you guys so much for staying for everything else in between! i love you guys so much ; w;


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> these chapters just keep getting longer and longer. *nervous sweating*
> 
> the song used in this one is 'love story' by indila. you can read the english translation to the lyrics here:  
> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ImI1TghBZNM
> 
> this one's another doozy, guys. you have been warned lmfao

Going alone, in retrospect, is probably a bad idea. Sure, Makoto likely isn’t going to win the competition and land himself a spot on Madeline’s backup crew, but that doesn’t mean her father isn’t keeping an eye on the situation already. Does he know that she goes to Bingo undercover every week? If so, he may already know she’s started talking to Makoto. And if that’s the case, Makoto may end up under her father’s microscope.

Partly, he thinks he wants to be there. After all, how else is he supposed to get the answers he needs to fix everything? But another part of him doesn’t think that this is the right place or time for anything too damning to happen. The ideal scenario would be that Makoto gets Madeline to talk a little tonight and then he goes back to the hotel and relays everything to everyone else.

Abbie had said that Madeline had sworn her to secrecy. Makoto isn’t entirely sure he believes that, because Abbie would have spilled the beans in a heartbeat regardless the next time she was in the same room as everyone else. So either Madeline has given her a good reason to keep any information she gained to herself or she didn’t say anything worth telling.

Initially, Makoto had attempted to talk Madeline into letting them meet in public just in case something _does_ happen, but he can’t really argue with her reluctance to risk getting spotted—especially if whoever sees her happens to recognize Makoto, too.

Either way, he is very nervously awaiting her arrival at the house of her supposed Aunt Cyd. The aforementioned Cyd herself has just offered him a cup of coffee and is taking a seat on the chair opposite him. She doesn’t seem to use her walker in the house, as it’s parked at the side of the front door, directly under a wall-mounted coat rack. Her makeup is still thick as ever, though. These are valid observations, considering Makoto isn’t sure how much acting the old woman is doing, herself.

When she smiles, Makoto anxiously returns the gesture. He stares down into the steaming mug he’s just been offered, his brow furrowed. Coffee this late at night seems a bit strange. However, while Makoto has been pushed into some interesting situations, not trusting a drink offered by a friendly old lady doesn’t seem like something he should be doing right now.

But he doesn’t trust Madeline’s father, and he’s not sure he trusts Madeline herself. By default, he’s a little leery when it comes to Cyd.

“What?” Cyd questions, still as upbeat as ever. “Don’t like coffee?”

“No, it’s not that,” Makoto waves his free hand apologetically. “Thank you for making it. I just…are the two of you _actually_ related?”

Cyd’s friendly grin falters only somewhat, and she sits back. “I can see why you’d have some trouble believing that, considering what happened after Bingo. But yes, whether she’s Avery or Madeline, she’s still my niece. And her love for Bingo is also real.”

Makoto nods in acceptance of that statement. “Where’d you go? After Bingo, I mean.”

“You’re a snoopy one, aren’t you?” Cyd laughs, dulling down the potential harshness of her comment. Makoto doesn’t take it personally, though. After all, he asked a question that likely has nothing to do with the scenario. “I was giving Madeline her space. She wanted to talk to you, which is actually a rarity, believe it or not. She sees the lot of you enough during one season of the show, even from the comfort of her own home, that she doesn’t care to spend more time with any of you.”

Makoto frowns. “What about Abbie—I mean, Abigail?”

“You can cut the bullshit right there,” As Madeline’s voice finds its way into the living room, Makoto jumps. He turns around just in time to see her strip off her hoodie and beanie, pulling the front door shut behind her. “We both know you and Abbie know each other.”

Makoto is mildly alarmed by those words, but he doesn’t argue. Instead, he releases a sigh, though it doesn’t shed much of the nervousness he’s starting to feel from knowing she knows a lot more about what’s going on than he’d initially thought. “Did Abbie tell you that?”

“She wasn’t specific,” Madeline replies, moving to take a seat next to Makoto. She snatches the coffee he hasn’t drank from his grip, takes a long sip, and then clutches it in her own hands. Cyd doesn’t seem to mind. She instead gets up, presumably to pour another glass for Makoto. “But yeah, you guys are competing separately, supposedly racing to get to the top.” A smirk forms on her lips there. “She’s going to kick your ass, you know that?”

“I’m almost totally sure of that,” Makoto answers honestly, shaking his head.

“And you’re still competing?”

“It’d be an embarrassment to drop out,” Makoto replies with a shrug. “I’ve come so far and learned so much. If I don’t win, it’s alright because I’m still getting something out of this.”

Madeline rolls her eyes. “If you say so, kid.”

“Stop calling me ‘kid’,” Makoto grumbles, very much like a kid. “The judges say I have potential, so you never know—I may be your backup dancer one of these days.”

Madeline outright laughs. “I doubt that. But I like your spirit. Anyway, I know I gave you my number, but why tonight?”

She poses a very good question. Why tonight, indeed? Makoto had told Kenny he’d planned on calling Madeline up after the performance, and he supposes it’s because he knew he’d still be a little hyped up from the whole thing, and the extra motivation would help spur him on to talk to her. But right now, in this moment, he’s more afraid of what’s going to happen than anything. He has to be careful with his words, lest he give himself away and wind up disqualified—potentially jailed for any number of reasons.

“I was really excited from getting through to the next round,” he admits, though his honesty is about to veer off into whatever story he can formulate in the moment. “I just happened to remember you gave me your number, and what better time to talk to you than right after one of the most exciting nights of my life?”

Madeline scoffs. “That sounds like an invitation to a hookup.” They both know it isn’t, but Madeline doesn’t seem to regret her words, either. If anything, she leans in, as if daring Makoto to continue. “So, let’s talk, then.”

Makoto scoots a good foot away. He knows Madeline isn’t actually trying to hit on him. No, it’s more like he thinks she may be attempting to intimidate him, and he absolutely doesn’t want it to work. There’s a lot he can’t say tonight, after all.

Either way, Madeline doesn’t seem to mind. Still leaned toward him, she grins widely. “Tell me what it is that made someone with zero prior dance experience get involved in a competition like this.”

Still very nervous, Makoto chokes out his response just as Cyd returns to the room and lowers another cup of coffee onto the table in front of him. “I’ve got _some_ experience, obviously. Though it may not be professional…”

“The awkward junior high school dance with the hands on the waist doesn’t count, Edamura,” Madeline teases, before she sits upright once more.

Makoto doesn’t bother arguing that he didn’t have any of those in school. Instead, he clears his throat. “I’ve done more than that.”

“I don’t believe you.”

“Then how come I’ve gotten this far?”

A scoff follows that, before Madeline scoots forward and essentially corners Makoto. It’s very obvious her intentions are to freak him out at this point, because the smirk on her lips is borderline twisted. She’s got one hand on the arm of the couch and the other on the backrest, effectively pinning Makoto to that side of the couch.

All the while, Cyd seems perfectly content sitting and sipping her own drink.

“You want to know how come you’ve gotten this far?” Madeline sneers, and Makoto thinks for a second that she might be angry with him. “It’s sheer dumb _luck_. You’re intriguing, because it’s obvious you haven’t so much as looked at a dance studio before this, and yet you’re so passionate about it. For whatever reason, the Japanese kid who probably hasn’t spent more than a month of his life in the States flies to Vegas to participate in a competition he probably never knew about overseas, and _that_ is what intrigues them.”

And like that, she sits back and returns to sipping at her coffee. “You’re not good at dance, Edamura—you’re the object of the judges’ interest because they simply don’t understand you.”

Makoto is left gaping, frozen to his spot on the corner of the couch. He can feel the chill of an impending cold sweat forming at the surface of his skin, but just as he’s about to try and formulate a response, Madeline bursts out laughing. It’s an easy laugh, almost like her angry mood never existed. The smile she fixes him with afterward is as sweet as if she’d simply complimented him.

“But seriously, how’d you hear about the show?”

Makoto feels like he’s stuck contemplating for several long moments, but considering how neither Cyd nor Madeline seem put off by his lack of a response, it can’t have been that long. Either way, he clears his throat. “I know Abbie through my manager. They go way back. He knows I’ve had a secret desire to start learning dance, and he’s the kind of guy who just…throws me into the deep end whenever he gets the chance, so…”

…Huh.

Relatively recently, that was quite literally true, wasn’t it? Makoto has to bite back a small smile at that thought.

Jeez…when did he start smiling about _anything_ having to do with Laurent?

“Is that so?” Madeline still doesn’t look fully convinced, but at the very least, she’s not in Makoto’s face without her aunt doing a damn thing to stop her. “And your manager has been teaching you the routines?”

“He has, actually,” Makoto responds, scratching at the back of his neck. “I don’t think dance is exactly up his alley either, but I guess he likes the deep end, too.”

Madeline seems to ponder those words for a second, before she lets out a sigh. “And if you do win? Are you sure it’s something you’re going to want to stick with? Once you’re my backup dancer, you’re on a contract, and you can’t back out for a year.”

Makoto just shrugs. He’s starting to feel a little more confident now that Madeline is speaking to him normally. Even if he can still hear the disbelief in her voice, it’s reassuring that he’s getting to talk and actually being heard.

“I’ll get through that year and not renew my contract, then.” Another shrug. “Besides, I thought you said I was for sure not going to win.”

“You’re not,” Madeline responds, polishing off the rest of her coffee and placing the cup on the table. “But pretending like you are is giving me some insight into what kind of person you are.”

Cyd speaks up there, clearing her throat. “She’s awful at conveying it, but she’s complimenting the fact that you have guts to keep going. In any case, we’re digressing again. What is it you came here to talk about, Edamura?”

There it is again…the anxiety. It’s not like Makoto can outright ask what happened with Natalie and Baxter, or just dig right into the truth about Madeline’s father. For the umpteenth time, he tells himself he has to approach this delicately.

Well…bottoms-up, he supposes…

“Your father starts judging when it’s narrowed down to the top ten, right?”

Madeline outright laughs. “You think you’ll make it that far?”

Makoto can’t help himself. He winces, before he flips Madeline off and finally reaches for his coffee. It’s cooled down a bit now, and it’s the perfect temperature. It tastes good as hell, to boot.

Madeline seems to get the point, as she continues speaking. “Yeah…he joins in at that time. But he’s been watching everything thus far—it’s _his_ show, after all.”

Everyone knows her father owns the show. His name—Craig Bettany—is plastered all over the website and in local news articles about him. Especially the ones about the arrest of Natalie and the firing of Baxter. Craig is always quoted waxing poetic about protecting his daughter and feeling guilty for having put her in such a situation with the show in the first place. But if that’s the case, why does he keep running it? Why does Madeline _let_ him?

“Do you enjoy it?”

Madeline stares long and hard at him for a moment, before she sighs and relaxes back onto the couch. “It’s interesting to see the kinds of people who try out. Shameful that I only get to keep one.”

Makoto frowns in response to that, taking another sip of his coffee. “You’ve had a pretty rough experience with both of the ones you got to keep, though.” Before he can receive any weird looks from her, he rushes to keep speaking. “Do you think this one will go better?”

Madeline is suddenly a lot more soft-spoken—perhaps even a bit pouty—about the situation. She lets out another sigh. “Well, they _do_ say the third time’s the charm…” Afterward, she promptly gets to her feet. “I think we should hang out another time, yeah? I’m getting a headache, and I’ve got to get up early tomorrow.”

Makoto stares at her for a few long moments. If he didn’t know better, it sort of feels like she’s intentionally cutting things off for the evening because of the subjects behind their discussion. Makoto is just a few more questions away from drawing the focus to Natalie and Baxter. Does that make her uncomfortable? Is it simply because the topics are difficult for her, or because she knows Makoto is prying? Mentioning her father was probably a rookie move on his part.

But to be honest, he’s getting a little uncomfortable, himself. He’s plenty ready to call it a night. Quite frankly, all he wants to do is get back to the hotel, to the others, or to his own room so that he can sleep. His legs are sore from the last dance, and he’s got to rest some of that off before he goes into practice the next morning.

He has no idea what he’s in for this time. He didn’t really give Laurent time to explain that much.

Either way, he too stands up. “Of course. Thanks for giving me some of your time, Madeline…or Avery.”

Madeline smiles sweetly at him. “It’s Madeline. _Dipshit_.”

It’s only as Makoto is leaving Cyd’s home that he realizes just how late it is. Chances are, everyone else is asleep at this point. Laurent and Kudo had promised to have their phones on them, but Makoto really hadn’t sensed any danger when he’d left, so he doubts they’ve been too worried.

Though, being honest, Madeline _had_ intimidated him a great deal at one point. Practically crawling over him and establishing her superiority in the way she had had been…alarming and humbling. It’s a stark reminder to Makoto that he’s not invincible in this. Even if for some strange reason he really did manage to win the competition, he would still be at her father’s mercy, especially considering he has no intention of giving the man what he wants.

Don’t get Makoto wrong—Madeline is downright beautiful, with her big, deceiving doe eyes and round face—but he’s far too put off by her unpredictable personality and the circumstances surrounding the situation to actually want anything to do with her.

Which sounds…huh…an awful lot like the situation with Laurent. Mind you, Makoto isn’t sleeping with Madeline like he has been Laurent, but the man can be pretty intimidating when he wants to, and he’s also got quite the hefty amount of baggage, what with being a con artist and all.

At the same time, he’s the only one Makoto wants to talk to right now. How tempting it is for him to call Laurent up and suggest they meet up so he can discuss what happened.

So that he can seek out comfort.

Makoto’s throat runs dry at that thought, because the more he thinks about it, the more he realizes it isn’t just something he wants…it’s something he _needs_. Maybe it’s because he needs to hear Laurent downplay the whole situation in his ‘everything will work out’ sort of mentality, or maybe it’s because he’s just aching to bend someone’s ear about it and Laurent is the first outlet that comes to mind. He could say it’s because he doesn’t want to wake anyone else up and the thought of inconveniencing Laurent Thierry puts a sweet taste in his mouth, but he also knows he’d be lying through his teeth if he said that.

He just…needs to talk to the guy.

That in mind, he pulls his phone out and finds Laurent’s name in his contacts, hitting the call button and raising the phone to his ear.

It’s as Laurent picks up that Makoto remembers his promise to call if things went sideways, so when Laurent answers with a somewhat lilted “ _Is everything alright?_ ” he almost feels a little guilty for calling the man up so suddenly.

Despite that, he smiles as he climbs into the cab headed back toward the hotel. “Yeah…I’m okay. I just…well, it’s a lot. Can I come to your room when I get back?”

Makoto literally hears the flirtatious chuckle die on Laurent’s tongue, cut off short by something else he can’t quite be sure he understands. But at the very least, the man speaks back up after some hesitation. “ _Of course you can. I’ll be waiting for you, Edamame._ ”

Makoto smiles even though he knows Laurent can’t see him doing so. “Good, I should be there soon.”

\--- --- --- --- ---

There’s some level of relief in seeing how calm Laurent is once Makoto arrives. He’s without comment as he invites Makoto into his room and gestures him toward the couch. As Makoto takes a seat, he glances up to see Laurent brewing coffee.

“Want one?” The blond questions, and Makoto thinks it’s his subtle way of wondering if they’re in for a long discussion. Makoto had barely touched the coffee Cyd had made him, which was in retrospect kind of rude. Either way, he nods his head.

“Please.”

Laurent simply fishes out two mugs from the kitchenette’s cabinet and gets to work. It doesn’t take long, and once he’s finished, he moves to take a seat next to Makoto, extending one of the drinks out to him. Makoto takes it and thanks him in a low mumble, before he sips some of the liquid off the top.

“You were very bold to make a trip out there at this hour,” Laurent praises, though he isn’t smiling. He glances down. “You’re probably exhausted from the performance, too. How are your feet?”

“My feet?” Makoto cocks an eyebrow, but he immediately realizes Laurent is referring to how he’d suddenly had to dance in heels for his last show. “They’re fine. I killed that performance, didn’t I?” He’s grinning coyly, though he’s sure even Laurent can tell he’s playing it out a bit too forcefully. He really is worn out.

“That, you did.” This time, Laurent smiles. His eyes are closed as he too sips away at his coffee. “You rose to the challenge, and you overcame yet another obstacle I’ve thrown at you. I’m proud of you, Edamame.”

“Yeah.” Makoto should probably be thanking Laurent for such warm words, especially after the way Madeline had talked to him. All the things she had said have been racing through his mind on repeat as a stark reminder that he’s nowhere near as capable as everyone else. In fact, if not for the rest of the group during that last round, he probably wouldn’t have made it through. Either way, he’s in the top twenty-five, so he’s going to count his blessings from here on out. “Though I probably shouldn’t let it get to my head…I’m still not a professional.”

“You’re not,” Laurent replies, leaning back against the couch cushions, “but you’re a confidence man, and that’s a close second.”

“I’m not a confidence man,” Makoto retorts, perhaps a bit harshly. “That whole statement is bullshit. I’m just here to help Natalie and Kenny…and maybe have a little fun.” A nervous laugh follows his words.

“I’d expect no other answer from you,” Laurent chuckles in response, “but a man can dream, right?”

“Yeah, well, keep dreaming.” Makoto wishes there was a little more bite to those words.

“Anyway, how did it go?”

Makoto shakes his head. “Honestly? Not as well as I hoped it would.” He stares down into his coffee. “I don’t know why I thought I was going to come back with all the answers, but it’s way too early to start asking about her father and everything that happened with Natalie and Baxter…”

“I agree,” Laurent says, before Makoto continues.

“She asked me why I joined and I came up with some big sob story about being an aspiring dancer with next to no experience and you shoving me in head-first. I mean, you did, but…” He glances over in time to see Laurent grinning one of his usual grins at him, and it draws a scoff from his lips. “In any case, she says she knows I’m not going to win and I also don’t get the feeling she believes my story. She may already know something’s up.”

Laurent nods his head slowly, as if he’s thinking heavily about the situation. “Did you know that she’s taken quite the liking to Abbie?”

Makoto frowns. “Did Abbie tell you something? I asked her and she said she was sworn to secrecy.”

“She told you that, did she?” Laurent raises both eyebrows. “It sounds to me like she’s aware that you’ll do something reckless if you know too much.”

In Laurent’s and Abbie’s defenses, Makoto has been known to act on his own when he sees fit. But it’s always worked out, hasn’t it? Maybe not solely because of his split-second decisions, but still. Makoto at least _somewhat_ knows what he’s doing.

“What did she tell you?” Makoto questions, a bit too irritably for even his own comfort.

Laurent shrugs both shoulders. “Why don’t you just let Abbie handle the information she has? She kept it from you for a reason, Edamame. I don’t personally know what that reason could be, but you can’t forget how delicate this situation is—”

“You think I don’t know that?” Makoto fixes Laurent with a sharp glare. “But if I don’t know the same things she does, why am I still a part of this?”

“That’s simple,” Laurent replies, taking another drink. “The point of both of you joining the competition was having two angles to approach the situation from. Your lack of information retains your innocence in the matter and therefore lets you slip right under the radar. Abbie, on the other hand, is delicately walking through a minefield, and it’s far less dangerous for one person to travel a minefield than two.”

“That’s crap and you know it!” Before Makoto realizes what he’s doing, he’s standing bolt upright. His coffee is sent flying, the mug shattering on the ground a few feet away. “The way you’re talking, it’s like Abbie is putting herself in danger all by herself! What the hell is it with you and making her do these things on her own!?”

Despite Makoto’s outburst, Laurent is as calm as ever. “Sit down.”

“I won’t,” Makoto sneers. “I’m trying to help and you’re both keeping me out of the loop, and what the hell good is that!?”

Laurent, for once, looks totally serious. Almost impatient. Makoto can’t tell which, but in the moment, he also doesn’t care. “You can’t just—drag me into this blindly!” He continues, borderline yelling. “People’s livelihoods are at stake! Abbie could wind up in _prison_ if Madeline’s father suspects anything!”

“Edamame…” Laurent warns, almost coldly, but Makoto continues to ignore him.

“There are two people who are _still_ suffering, and you’re going to continue to hold information over my head and wave it around like bait! You didn’t have to mention it if you weren’t going to tell me, you know!”

“Edamame.”

“I didn’t come this far for nothing, damn it! I’ve worked my _ass_ off for you, and all this is starting to feel like is you playing around with the idea that you get to put me in different outfits and make me dance around with you like your own personal damned puppet—”

The slam of the coffee mug on the table in front of the couch startles even Makoto. When he reorients himself and glances toward the sound, he sees that Laurent is now leaning forward, one elbow on his knee and the other hovering in the air where he’d just placed his drink on the table. By now, he’s glaring sharply up at Makoto.

“Sit. _Down_.”

Makoto’s still angry, don’t get him wrong. But the icy cold stare Laurent has given him settles all the way down into his _bones_ , and he can’t bring himself to disobey. He scowls down at the other man, but eventually does as he’s told, taking a seat on the couch once more. He doesn’t have to look happy about it, though.

“Abbie _chose_ to handle this on her own,” Laurent starts. “For whatever reason, she seems to think that the information she has doesn’t need to go to you, and it’s your responsibility to respect that and let her do her job. If you want to know what she found out, maybe it’s in your best interest to go to _her_ about it instead of trying to coax it out of me.”

Makoto knows Laurent is right, for the most part. Laurent is the master of being a pain in the ass and intentionally handling things in his own way, but maybe it really isn’t all his doing this time around. Makoto can’t really argue either way, since he doesn’t know enough himself.

“And for the record, it _has_ been fun giving you different outfits to wear and watching you perform.” Laurent doesn’t look for a second like he regrets his words, and Makoto isn’t certain how he feels about that. “But if it’s that cumbersome to you, you’re welcome to drop out and let Abbie handle it from here. I won’t force you to keep performing if it’s bothering you that much.”

Makoto can feel his irritation thinning. His shoulders have dropped, and his gaze is locked on Laurent. “However, I’d recommend you make a decision sooner rather than later.”

Of course Makoto would wind up feeling guilty for his outburst. The shattered coffee mug is visible from where he’s sitting, and he decides to concede defeat by getting up and working on cleaning it up. He crouches down next to the mess and starts picking up glass shards.

“What’s the next round going to be like?” He questions, only slightly changing the subject.

Laurent either highly appreciates it or has been looking forward to telling Makoto from the get-go. Either way, his tone is almost a complete turnaround from what it was seconds ago as he responds. “A duet between manager and performer. They want to see how well you reciprocate your coach’s teachings.”

“Wait…” Makoto turns his gaze up to Laurent, genuinely shocked. “I’ll be dancing with you?”

“You will.” Laurent smiles, reaching for his own coffee once more. “Provided you’re still in the competition.”

Makoto swallows nervously. “Have you chosen a song already?”

He moves to throw the glass away and fishes a rag out of the kitchen drawers, watching over the counter as Laurent pulls his phone out of his pocket and starts scrolling. Seconds later, a song starts playing. The beat is almost like a waltz, in one-two-three counts, and Makoto immediately knows he’s doing some sort of ballroom-esque dance by the sound of it.

It’s also in French. Makoto barely understands the words, but he thinks that he rather enjoys the song. If that isn’t persuasion enough for him to keep competing, he doesn’t know what would be.

And the thought of dancing with Laurent in an actual performance…doesn’t bother him all that much. In fact, it’s quite the opposite. Before this had all started, that would have been a completely different story. At this point, Makoto isn’t stupid enough to deny why.

“I’m still working on the steps, but I’d be an honor if you gave me the pleasure of this one last dance, Edamame.”

Makoto glances down at the rag in his hand. It’s strange, how he can recall every waking minute since this whole competition had started and he’d been training under Laurent’s teachings, but at the same time, he can’t figure out how it came to be this way. Don’t get him wrong—Laurent still drives him absolutely crazy most times, but…he thinks that maybe that comes with the territory. Laurent is beyond unbearable, careless, selfish, and a total prick, but…

But _what_?

“…Yeah, okay,” he concedes even though he doesn’t possess an answer to that question.

\--- --- --- --- ---

The next morning, he’s even more sore than before. Sleeping off the ache in his calves and thighs and feet only seems to have made it more powerful, and walking on any surface kind of feels like delicately trying to balance on gelatin. And to think that there are dancers who perform regularly in heels…it’s humbling, to say the least.

In any case, Makoto is there as he’d been asked to, and Laurent is already organizing in the studio. He plugs the speakers in and connects his phone to them, turning and greeting Makoto with one of his usual smiles. It’s as if the discussion from last night didn’t happen at all.

“Good news,” he tells Makoto before either of them can even get to a greeting. “We now have the studio entirely to ourselves.”

Makoto cocks an eyebrow and that much serves as his response in total. Laurent doesn’t look surprised. Instead, he simply shrugs his shoulders before he moves to explain. “Abbie and Cynthia suddenly decided they’d be training at a new venue. Apparently, it’s got a _stage_.”

“…Oh.” Makoto wonders what it would be like to train on a stage. He’ll admit that going out to perform on a stage each time is a little unnerving, considering he only ever practices in front of mirrors, but at the same time, he’s managed thus far.

Does this have something to do with Abbie’s conversation with Madeline? Or did Cynthia and Abbie simply decide they needed an upgrade? Money has never really been an issue with Team Confidence, and if he and Abbie are competing against one another, he supposes getting a better room for practice is a good step up.

But Makoto doesn’t see anything wrong with this room, either. Plenty of groups have practiced in here before, when it was owned by others in the past.

For whatever reason, Laurent also doesn’t seem to want to get an upgrade, so that’s got to mean something too, right?

“Did you want a better studio?” Laurent questions, and for a second, Makoto wonders if he’s been thinking aloud. Either way, he turns his gaze to the blond and shakes his head.

“This one’s fine. I wouldn’t know the difference, anyway.”

“Alright, then.” Laurent pockets his phone, walking out to the middle of the room. “Let’s get started. This routine’s not as fast-paced as what you’ve been learning up until now, so I’ve all the faith in the world that you’ll do just fine.”

Makoto joins him, glancing at the mirrors. “We’re dancing together this time…Like, _together_ together.” He hopes Laurent understands what he means, because it’s difficult to explain what he’s trying to convey. In his team performance, he and the rest of his teammates had danced together, but their movements weren’t face-to-face and they could still rely on the mirrors for practice. If this is what he suspects it is, they probably won’t use the mirrors much at all because they’ll be too busy facing one another instead.

“You mean like this?” Laurent swoops in close and slides an arm around Makoto’s waist. “Hold out your hand.”

Makoto swallows a bit nervously, which surprises him somewhat. Even after all the times the two of them have been intimate together, being pulled close like this is still so…unreal to him. It’s sweeter, and even though it’s for a performance, Makoto can’t get the thought out of his head that it’s himself and Laurent duetting this time.

Either way, he follows the instructions, holding out his hand.

Laurent smiles and takes that hand in his, cupping their palms together. “Now, put your other arm around my shoulders.”

Again, and also with hesitation, Makoto does as he’s told.

“I’m going to lead for now,” Laurent explains, and Makoto can’t help but notice how…in the zone he looks. This must be something he put a lot of thought into. How long has he known that this next dance was going to be a duet? “But once you’re used to the steps, we’re actually going to switch in the middle of the performance. They want to see how well you apply your experience from learning under me, after all, so we’re going to show them.”

“Have you done this kind of dance before?” Makoto wonders, to which Laurent simply smiles down at him.

“I have, a few times. It’s fun to learn, and ballroom dance is quite an attractive feature to some. I enjoy having that under my belt when I’m trying to grab someone’s attention.”

It’s almost a breath of fresh air to hear Laurent make a comment somewhat close to flirtatious. He makes a face at the words, but in all honesty, he’s relieved. It feels good to know that even with everything he and Laurent have gotten mixed up in during their time in Vegas, Laurent is still Laurent. Going and getting attached to him shouldn’t change that, even if it’s reciprocated.

 _Is_ it reciprocated, though? While Laurent begins counting and Makoto follows his lead, he thinks back to everything that’s happened since he met the guy. Being dragged along and watching Laurent pretend he didn’t already know anything about him, being invited under that umbrella in Singapore…Laurent helping him find a job in France. The auction. The pool in Vegas. The night after. Every night following that. All of Laurent’s smiles and jokes and comments.

And then that hug. Dancing with him during practice in the hotel room. Seeing his face last night when Makoto had nailed the performance with everyone else. The smile he’d fixed Makoto with when they were at the bar. Playing Bingo with him…

He can’t really draw conclusions with a guy like Laurent Thierry, but if Makoto didn’t know any better…

“Watch your step,” Laurent cuts Makoto’s thoughts off when he misses a step and accidentally plants his foot on Laurent’s. His cheeks flush red and he shakes his head.

“Sorry.”

“You’re embarrassed?” Laurent’s question is relatively valid, considering Makoto has been training under him all this time and has passed the point of feeling guilty for making mistakes in front of him. But this one’s different because it affected Laurent. And Makoto had been lost in thoughts that had been pointed directly at the older man. This is getting messier by the minute. “How cute.”

“Don’t call me cute.”

Laurent simply laughs as he keeps moving. He’s stopped counting, but Makoto thinks he hears the steps in his head. “But twenty dollars looks like twenty dollars, Edamame.”

“Is that all I’m worth to you?” Makoto teases, and it shocks even himself how easily that comes.

“Alright, then,” Laurent leans in, nuzzling at Makoto’s temple, where he places a kiss that shakes the smaller man right down to the core. “Twenty million dollars looks like twenty million dollars.”

Makoto stammers out his next response, and he knows his face has to be beet red at this point. “It’s always money with you.”

“You asked for higher value,” Laurent responds, before he surprises Makoto by lowering him into a dip. “But would you believe me if I told you such a measurement was impossible?”

Makoto doesn’t answer. He’s too busy clinging to Laurent for dear life. He can practically feel the chill of the cold floor beneath them dangerously close to his head. All it would take would be for Laurent to lose his grip or, god forbid, intentionally let go, and _crack_!

Thankfully, Laurent doesn’t let go, and Makoto is soon upright again. He stumbles a bit to regain his balance, and Laurent leans in once more. “Don’t stop moving. When that happens on the stage, you’re going to have to be graceful about resurfacing.”

There’s something about Laurent teaching while he’s leading. Makoto definitely has a long way to go with it, but being pulled along into the process itself is doing him more good than simply being told how to take each step. His movements are probably awkward and full of uncomfortable twists and turns, and even though it’s not anywhere visible on Laurent’s face, he’s probably realizing all the points where Makoto is going to need to improve. It’s embarrassing, but it’s also reassuring.

This is as direct as teaching can get, and Laurent’s grip on Makoto is comforting and also certain. He’s not going to let him go until he sees fit to.

For several moments, the two men dance in the silence of the studio, just performing a simple waltz, until Laurent decides Makoto has gotten the hang of it and separates them. He’s adjusting his clothes a bit as he speaks up. “That won’t be all to our performance, mind you. We’ve still got to do something that wows the judges, but being honest, I’m coming up with this one as I go.”

“You’re winging it?” Makoto laughs a bit, a little out of breath himself. “You mean you didn’t have it all together from the start?”

Laurent looks like he’s about to speak, but Makoto’s phone chooses that moment to go off. He strolls to the bench where he has his things and pulls it from his bag, opening up the lock screen.

The text message on the LED has Makoto’s blood running cold, and Laurent must immediately notice, because he moves to join him.

“What’s the matter?”

Makoto doesn’t speak. Instead, he passes the phone to Laurent, gaping up at him with wide eyes. Madeline has sent him a text message, and in one line, it says everything.

_“I know what you’re up to. You need to drop out before I disqualify you myself.”_

Laurent stares at the message clear until the backlight dims, and then he passes the phone back to Makoto, who clutches the phone in his hands, genuinely debating how he’s supposed to go about answering her back.

“So what’s your next move?” Laurent questions, tucking his hands into his pockets.

By now, Makoto is deep in thought, gazing at the bench in front of him. Does Madeline really know what’s going on? The message is so simple and yet ominous that Makoto wonders if everything he’s done so far is suddenly all for naught. On the other hand, he’s really enjoying competing. Regardless of what’s going to happen, he’s having fun and doesn’t want to stop. It’s been such an adrenaline rush. All of this trip has been an adrenaline rush.

But if she knows why he’s in the competition in the first place, it’s probably all over, huh?

How did she find out, though? Maybe she’s convinced of something else, or maybe someone told her. Abbie had been sworn to secrecy apparently, so it’s possible that she’s been feeding Madeline all this information for whatever reason. But if that’s the case, Madeline already knew last night when she and Makoto were talking at her aunt’s house. Was she pretending not to know anything, then? If so, why did she choose just now to text him?

“I…don’t know,” Makoto answers honestly. “I think maybe I need to talk to her.”

“Isn’t that a bit dangerous?” Laurent wonders, still standing next to him.

“Not sure,” Makoto responds. “But I’m not going to get any answers just wondering, and I don’t exactly like the idea of dropping out just because she said so, either. It shouldn’t all be over just like that, you know?”

“Makoto.” Laurent surprises Makoto a bit by using his first name, but he doesn’t protest. Instead, he turns his gaze up to the blond, listening attentively. “If you make contact with her again, it’s possible her father could be involved, provided she knows everything.”

“I know,” Makoto agrees. “But I have to do _something_. I’m not done yet, you know? Natalie is still in prison, and Baxter is still…”

Laurent places a hand on Makoto’s shoulder. “Alright. I’ll come with you, then.”

Makoto frowns up at him. “I don’t see what good that’s going to do.” Though he also can’t exactly deny how comforting the thought of having someone at his side during a conversation with Madeline is.

“It may not do any good,” Laurent says back, “or it may be exactly what we need to avoid you getting in too deep. But we won’t know unless we try. Besides, the fact that you’re not alone in this may be your saving grace. And you’re _not_ alone.”

Makoto swallows down nervousness, but before he can speak, Laurent uses his grip on his shoulder to turn him to face him. His expression is almost frighteningly serious. “You’re not alone.”

Laurent isn’t saying it, but Makoto gets the feeling there’s an unspoken weight of some sort of Laurent Thierry version of guilt thrown into those words. He’d dragged Makoto into this, after all, and while Makoto had eventually dived headfirst in on his own volition, he’d still been pulled toward the edge without much choice. And there are so many people counting on him now. Makoto won’t be able to look Kenny in the eyes if he were to fail.

And what if something happens to Abbie or Cynthia? Come to think of it, he’s really sort of left them both to their own devices on this situation. They’ve proven countless times that they’re capable of taking care of themselves, but even his plans have been kept separate from their own, and if what Laurent had said last night is true, Abbie had preferred to keep it that way…

“I need to talk to Abbie, too,” he decides aloud. “Before we talk to Madeline. Does Kudo know something I don’t, too?”

Laurent shakes his head. “I’ve kept him mostly out of the loop. He knows why you’re competing, but I won’t get him too deeply involved unless it’s necessary.”

Makoto nods in understanding. “Good. Where is he, anyway?”

“He’s watching Abbie and Cynthia practice,” Laurent replies. “Now that we’ve got our own studios, they can practice whenever they want. Morning practices are more convenient, so it makes sense that they’re training now too. With that in mind, I wouldn’t distract them to talk to Abbie yet.”

Madeline’s message seems more than a little urgent, and Makoto won’t deny that he’s not crazy about waiting, but he knows better than to think he’s going to disturb either of them from their work. For whatever reason, Abbie and Cynthia are still training hard too, and there are certain bits of information Makoto is simply not going to be allowed access to. For that reason, he has to be respectful of their own situations, too, which means that both of the two conversations are on hold.

Which leaves practicing with Laurent. And to be completely honest, it may be just the distraction Makoto needs. With that in mind, he turns his focus back up to Laurent and smiles.

“Let’s keep winging it. I don’t plan on dropping out, so I still need to be on top of my game.”

Laurent practically barks with laughter there, clapping Makoto on the shoulder and taking a step back. “There’s my Edamame!”

This time, Laurent puts the song he’d shown Makoto last night on and pulls him back into the center of the studio. They assume their positions once more and start moving, to the beat of an actual song.

At first, they’re doing the exact same thing they were doing earlier—simply falling into rhythm together and giving Makoto time to familiarize himself with the steps—but soon enough, Laurent throws a little something extra in here and there. A change in direction or a dip—a brief separation, complete with a lingering, well-performed stare. It’s obvious he’s playing around with the music, trying to see what goes best with each part of the music.

They’re learning this from scratch together, and Makoto is having fun with it. It really doesn’t take long for him to get his mind off of everything that’s going on. Whether he’s being annoying or smiling that stupid smile of his, or simply flirting with Makoto, Laurent has always been a nice distraction. It’s odd, how to the beat of such a solemn-sounding tune, Makoto continues finding himself remembering little moments with Laurent. Tiny, infinitesimal things, like a wavering glance here or a hand on the shoulder there. Things he hadn’t paid too much mind to up until he started thinking about why his throat gets dry around the man sometimes, or why he sometimes feels more nervous when he’s close to him.

He knows what it means, and it’s particularly real in a moment like this, when Laurent is focused on dancing with him. Laurent being serious about the situation is a stark reminder that he’s actually got some normal human qualities, and that acknowledgment resonates strongly with Makoto.

Makoto doesn’t have a lot of romantic experience. By the time he’d been old enough to start dating, he hadn’t really focused on it. His mother’s health had been more concerning to him. And what with winding up in jail, becoming a scam artist, and serving time in prison and with Team Confidence, he hasn’t given it much thought.

He doesn’t know if he can call this love, or if Laurent just knows perfectly how to get under his skin in the most intimate kind of ways, but he does know that as much as the guy drives him batshit crazy and frustrates him to no end, he’s also… _damn it,_ he’s the one Makoto looks forward to seeing most days anymore.

Just weeks ago, he’d been looking for any excuse to keep Laurent out of his hotel room, but at this point, he’s almost always going to Laurent’s room on his own.

His feelings for this bastard are very, very real, and Laurent only amplifies them with that hand on his waist and that reassuring grip on him. They’re inches apart, with the warmth of Laurent’s body close by and that thoughtful expression on his face. Every so often, Laurent will glance down at him through half-lidded eyes and just smile, and Makoto understands and at the same time can’t even begin to process what it means.

If this really is his last dance, he’s glad he gets to do it with Laurent. And he’s also determined to up the ante and make it his best one yet.

“What’s this song about?” Makoto questions when the song ends for probably the fifteenth time. They both move to take a break, Makoto plopping down next to the bench with a bottle of water. Laurent sits on the bench next to him, glancing down at him.

“It’s a bittersweet love story.” He flashes Makoto one of his usual winks from above. “I’ll leave it up to you to look up the lyrics later.”

Makoto frowns, wondering what that’s even supposed to mean, but he doesn’t push it. “So it’s…solemn, right?”

“Something like that,” Laurent replies. “The ending isn’t sad, but it’s probably not interpreted by most as happy, either.”

“We’re looking for something emotional in our steps then,” Makoto observes aloud.

“Bingo,” Laurent answers.

So it’s a heartfelt love story, then. That means there needs to be something in their dance that conveys that. He knows Laurent is the one calling the shots when it comes to the moves, but he has something of an idea. That in mind, he takes one last drink of his bottled water and then gets to his feet, heading back to the center of the room. Laurent doesn’t move from the bench, but Makoto doesn’t need him just yet.

He stops in the middle of the room, facing the mirrors once more, and then leans backward and falls into the very backbend he had been practicing a couple of weeks before. It surprises him how easily he slips into the move, and later on, he’ll be proud of himself for it. But right now, it’s not what he’s going for. He just wanted to see if he could still do it.

That in mind, he rises back up and this time drops to his knees, pulling the same move the best he can manage from his new position. It’s no surprise that he loses his balance and topples over backward, but he’s suddenly got another idea.

“Laurent, come here.”

“You’ve got something in mind, do you?” Laurent questions, but approaches nevertheless.

Still lying on his back, Makoto nods up at him. “I want to come up from that bend. But I think I’m going to need your help doing it.”

For several moments, he and Laurent are left discussing what he means by that. After tossing ideas back and forth with the blond, Makoto manages to convey what he’s trying to get across. He needs something that looks like he’s rising up, but he wants Laurent involved, as if he’s ‘helping’ him get back on his feet. Laurent suggests a more independent move after that, hinting that it implies Makoto’s character in the performance is learning to walk on his own two feet, and the end result is surprisingly good.

In the end, it’s a dip. But rather than holding Makoto securely to ensure he doesn’t fall over, Makoto is leaning backward into the dip and swaying sideways, before he rises and distances himself backward. It’s an advanced move that has the two men poring over internet tutorials for a good length of their practice, but when they finally get the hang of a rather unrefined version of it, the satisfaction Makoto feels is downright palpable.

The last couple of hours of their practice is spent toying around with other moves. Slipping from waltz steps to Makoto embracing Laurent from behind and then prying himself away. Poignant dance steps taken several feet apart from one another, before they come together and Makoto takes the lead on the steps.

It’s already coming together, and it’s only the first day of this week’s practice.

Even if Makoto had gone into this without the experiences he’d had over the course of this competition, he can honestly say that he’d be able to acknowledge how good of a team he and Laurent make. As manager and performer, they’ve been surprisingly cohesive. Had this been a different situation, where Laurent hadn’t swindled Makoto into working alongside him time and time again, he may have been able to accept a position working permanently next to him.

But whether or not he has feelings for Laurent, Makoto knows he won’t be able to go on forever working with the guy. An honest living, especially after what happened to his mother, is so very important to him. More important than romantic feelings or love or attraction or any of that. It’s a very pivotal piece to his own happiness, and he longs to prove to himself that he can do it, especially after being told by so many that he can’t.

Either way, once practice is over, Makoto makes the decision to go back to his room and shower, and Laurent seems keen on doing the same thing. Following his shower, he sends Abbie a text message just to make sure she’s out of practice, and once he’s confirmed that she is, he heads to her room to pay her a visit.

He’s got a very long night ahead of him, and it begins with trying to get some answers from the girl who had intentionally left him out of the loop for whatever reason.

Abbie greets him with a towel around her own neck, dressed in a lightweight black tee shirt and jean shorts. She stares blandly at him for a few seconds, before she opens her door fully and steps out of the way.

“How was practice?” Makoto asks her, inviting himself in and making his way to her couch. She watches him for a few moments, before she too follows and takes a seat across from him on the armchair nearby.

“Good, actually,” she answers easily. “We’re gonna kick your asses, by the way.”

“I’m sure you will,” Makoto replies around a nervous laugh, before he gestures to her with a flourish of his wrist. “Speaking of that, you didn’t tell Madeline what’s going on, did you?”

Abbie’s expression doesn’t change, but her tone does. “Why would I do that?”

Makoto sighs, before he pulls out his phone and opens the message Madeline sent him. As he passes it to her across the coffee table, he speaks up. “I know you told Laurent what happened when you had dinner with her, and that there are certain things you’re keeping from me for whatever reason, but…”

Abbie reads the message, and then plops the phone back down onto the table and leans back, pulling her legs up and crossing them on the cushion of the chair. “I’m gonna say it again—why would I tell her anything?” Her eyes fall shut, but she cracks one open to shoot a sort of relaxed glare Makoto’s way. “We talked about some things, but I didn’t tell her anything about you.”

Makoto believes Abbie—the girl has never outright lied to him. She’s played along with Laurent’s schemes and dodged the truth, but she’s never bothered to lie to his face. However, she’s also always viewed herself as independent, so he knows there’s no telling.

But if she didn’t tell Madeline, who did?

“I visited her last night,” Makoto explains. “We ran into each other when Laurent and I were out a while back and she told me she wanted to talk sometime. So after the performance last night, we met up. I didn’t say anything, but I got that message this morning.” A sigh escapes him, before he keeps speaking once more. “I’m not going to make you tell me anything—”

“—you couldn’t even if you wanted to,” Abbie cuts in.

“But I’d really like to know what happened when the two of you talked.”

“Why not just drop out?” Abbie asks dully. “That’d keep you out of trouble—she made that crystal clear to you.”

Makoto shakes his head. “Too many people are depending on my help.”

Abbie’s never been one to back down from anything. Chances are, Makoto isn’t getting any answers from her. So he tries one last ditch attempt at getting her to say something.

“I’m going to talk to her again tonight. Anything you tell me today may save my ass later.”

“You’re a moron,” Abbie grunts, rolling her eyes. “Why would you go after her after a message like that?”

Makoto shrugs. “I need answers. I need to know who she got her information from and just _what_ information they gave her. And I also need to beg her to let me stay in the competition.”

“You’re too reckless,” Abbie comments. “That’s why I didn’t tell you shit. You make split-second decisions because you think it’s a good idea. How you’re not dead by now is beyond me.”

Makoto knows Abbie’s right. He tends to get absorbed in the situation, and once he’s started, it’s near-impossible to get him to stop. His heart tends to drag him into some pretty intense situations, and with the help of the others, he’s always just barely managed to dig his way out.

But still…

“But if you have to know, I’ll tell you one thing.” Abbie raises a finger to punctuate her point. “Madeline Bettany does not agree with what her father is doing.” She then gestures to the door. “Now, get out and let me have my hotel room back. Don’t go acting like you already know this when you speak to her, or it’ll fuck everything up and I _will_ kill you.”

Makoto doesn’t doubt for a second that Abbie is serious, so he takes her words to heart and silently gets back to his feet, nodding his thanks to her. She probably only gave him that little tidbit of information to reassure him that whatever he was going to get into talking to Madeline later isn’t going to get him attacked by _her_ , but there’s still a lot in the air.

If Madeline’s against it, why is she still letting her father run this show? Why is Natalie still in prison, and why is Baxter’s life in ruins? Why is she still famous and performing and living her perfectly happy life when her father is single-handedly ruining those around her?

He _is_ comforted, of course, but he’s also irritated. Maybe Madeline isn’t guilty of accusing anyone of sexual harassment or stealing money, but she’s not innocent, either.

He immediately pulls out his phone and calls Madeline up.

\--- --- --- --- ---

In retrospect, he didn’t think this through very much. Thankfully, Cyd is willing to let him and Laurent pop by to visit once more, but Madeline doesn’t look the least bit happy about it. This time, she’s the one storming about the house, making coffee for everyone. She comes in with a tray full of the drinks, laying one out before Makoto and Laurent on the table, as well as for her aunt. Afterward, she plops down onto the couch next to Makoto and cups her own coffee in her hands.

“Aunt Cyd, you can go back to bed if you want. I can handle this.”

Cyd scoffs there. “Please, Maddie, you’re more moody than usual today.” She turns her gaze to her niece. “I’m here to keep you from earning yourself a lawsuit.”

“Not gonna happen,” Madeline returns her scoff. “These two are con artists—they’ll never try and sue me because it’ll cost them.”

“She’s right,” Laurent responds peacefully, raising a hand. “But if I may, we’re here to gather answers—not to rile anyone up.”

Madeline scoffs again, glaring off to the side. “Whatever. Ask what you’ve got to ask.”

Makoto sighs. He’s still angry with her, but he can’t let that part spill just yet. For now, he’s able to keep his cool. “Who told you about me?”

“Wouldn’t you like to know?” Madeline retorts bitterly.

“Yeah, actually,” Makoto says coolly, “we would. Look, Madeline, I don’t know what information you have, but I’ll be happy to give you all the answers you need after you give me mine.”

Madeline raises both eyebrows. She looks that same level of intimidating that she did when she cornered him last night, but with Laurent in the room, she seems content keeping it reduced to volatile stares. “You’re not really in a place to be barking orders, kid.”

Makoto opens his mouth to speak, but Laurent cuts in there. “I think this is less about either party making demands and more about trading information. We’re not here to cause anybody any harm, and depending on where you stand, we may very well be on your side. But also, let it be known that neither of us plan on dropping out.”

“I can make you drop out,” Madeline reminds quickly, though she surprisingly relaxes there and sits back. “I wish you would just give it up already.” She almost looks a bit sad there, and Makoto finds himself feeling genuinely concerned about her expression. “Abbie and I talked and she got straight to the point, but her interpretation was wrong about what’s happening.”

Makoto and Laurent exchange glances. Thankfully, they don’t have to push for answers there, because after taking a sip of her coffee, Madeline opens up.

“My father isn’t trying to find me a life partner or what-the-hell-ever. In fact, that assumption is downright asinine. I was the one who made a move on Natalie, but I didn’t do it because my father told me to. I did, however, make the mistake of going to my father crying when she rejected me. Never expected the guy to retaliate by framing her for theft.”

Again, Makoto and Laurent are looking at one another, before Laurent speaks up.

“You didn’t try to stop him, though,” Makoto says, though his tone is more matter-of-fact than accusatory.

“I ripped his ass for it,” Madeline replies, though there’s no real bite to her words, “but he managed to convince me that speaking out would ruin the competition and probably have a negative impact on my reputation. So, against my better judgment, I let it continue.”

“What about Baxter?” Makoto questions. “He says he was accused of sexual harassment because he told you he liked your hair.”

“That’s where it gets crazy, actually,” Madeline says. “Dad runs the entire competition—he oversees the manufacture of merchandise centered around it and everything. When the shitty little mugs and tee shirts started selling in local shopping malls and gas stations, he realized he was making big money off of just two seasons. On the side, Bax and I were working to help Natalie, and he caught on. Ruined Bax’s reputation and threatened to have him arrested if I didn’t play along.”

There’s a long silence there, wherein everyone seems to be lost in thought. Even Cyd, as silent as ever across the table, looks as if she feels some level of guilt for having kept all this to herself. Makoto has a million questions to ask, but he can’t settle on just one.

Thankfully, Madeline doesn’t seem to be done talking.

“And then you and Abbie come into this mess with all the wrong ideas, dead set on helping for all the wrong reasons. All I can think about is how my twisted ringleader of a father will destroy the both of you. Abbie has a cool head about it and can handle it, and I suspected since the two of you knew each other that you were involved as well, but you in particular…you get out on that stage and you have so much _fun_ , and you’re so passionate about it even though you’re so green. I’d really hate to see what it’d do to you if my father ruined you.”

“You still haven’t told us who gave you information about this,” Laurent pushes calmly, sipping away at his own coffee.

“I figured it was obvious,” Madeline answers. “Bax told me you and Natalie’s brother hunted him down.”

“You guys are still in touch?” Makoto questions, frowning.

“Of course we are,” Madeline replies around a scoff. “If you think what I’ve let my father do doesn’t bother me, you’re out of your mind. Thanks to Aunt Cyd here, I’m able to keep in touch with him without my old man suspecting anything. It’s cost her a lot of throwaway phones and more time than I can ever make up to her, but she’s helping out from the sidelines.”

Laurent turns his attention to Cyd. “How do you feel about all of this?”

Cyd shakes her head. “My brother wasn’t always this blinded by money. I want it to stop, but I’m not here to destroy him. But I’d like for it to be over sooner instead of later.”

Madeline nods, before she turns her attention fully to her aunt. “I’m so sorry, Aunt Cyd.”

Cyd shakes her head. “You know I’m here for you, Maddie.”

In any case, they both face Makoto and Laurent once more, and Madeline speaks up. “I want you to drop out, before my father ruins you completely. Please, let Abbie and Bax and I handle this.”

Makoto shakes his head without hesitation. “I can’t do that.”

Across the table, Cyd sighs. “What exactly do you want out of all of this? If too many people are involved, it could get messy.”

Makoto hasn’t so much as taken a sip of his drink. It’s getting cold by now, but he can’t even think about it. His stomach is in knots too much to handle coffee, regardless of how it normally operates as a calming mechanism for him. “I’ll be honest—I wasn’t crazy about all of this at first. Natalie’s brother’s story was what got to me the most. But looking back, I’m having a lot of fun.” His expression grows serious as he directs his attention up to Cyd. “I may not look it, but I’ve served time before. Twice. I know what I got myself into. And, uh…” He wrings his hands in his lap. “This next dance is pretty important, so…”

He doesn’t look up at Laurent when he feels the man’s hand on his knee, but he does reach down to clasp his own hand over it. “I’m fully invested. If you and Bax and Abbie have any plans, I want in. The increase in numbers may seem convoluted to you, and Abbie will probably tell you the opposite, but we’re a team. We can take down your father without it destroying you or your reputation in the process.”

Madeline contemplates his words heavily, before she lets out a sigh. “It’s not going to be easy. Like I said, my dad runs this entire show. He’s involved in everything. But if I have my way about it, I’ll still be able to have a contest like this without all the corruption.” She then turns to face Makoto. “You may not be a kid—you may have spent time in jail before and I don’t know all the other shit you’ve encountered up until this—but you’ll always be a kid to me. You’ve got so much heart that it’s not easy to see you as anything other than naïve.”

Makoto simply shrugs. “Just let me help. That’s all I’m asking.”

It’s strange, how he’d come into this wanting to rip Madeline up one side and down the other for everything that had happened, and yet, things seem to be okay now. He still doesn’t think he can excuse the fact that she’s played dumb for all this time, but looking back, they’ve all done something like that. Singapore was a whole mess of it. There’s still a lot about what happened to Abbie there that Makoto doesn’t agree with. Hell, there’s a lot that Laurent did to _him_ that he doesn’t agree with. But they’re all here now, and that’s what matters.

They _will_ iron out all these details down the line, however.

Either way, the four of them spend hours discussing everything that’s happened. With the aid of Laurent, who has been scamming people on this level for longer than Makoto probably knows of, there are a few more ideas thrown to the table, and several mugs of coffee later, they’re all going their separate ways. It’s well into the night when Makoto finally retires to his own room. His mind is still buzzing, however, so he knows he’s not going to bed right away.

It’s insane to think that things have turned out like this. He never really got to dig for information like he’d planned to, but it’d all worked out somehow. In the end, they’d called up Abbie and let her in on their plan, and Madeline has promised to relay it to Bax as well. Their plan won’t be set in stone until after this week’s performance, so Makoto still has some time to mentally prepare. But…in true Team Confidence fashion, there’s finally a plan. If everything works out, there will be a continuation to the show, and Madeline will be able to finally enjoy it without all the strings of corruption attached.

Makoto orders room service and eats alone in the dining area of his hotel room. He feels strangely resolved, and yet wide awake all at the same time. It’s a perfect time to finally do as Laurent had asked him and look up the lyrics to that song. Why the man hadn’t just up and told him what the song meant is beyond him, but he supposes he’ll find out now.

He pulls up the song on a Youtube video with the lyrics attached in English, and immediately engulfs himself in the lyrics.

Maybe it’s because he made the mistake of looking up the music video rather than just the song, but the meaning between the video and the lyrics sinks in heavy. Makoto immediately understands why Laurent described it as bittersweet, because the ending doesn’t for certain come across as happy. The two characters involved don’t wind up together in the end. They’re far apart.

Almost like Makoto will be once Vegas is over with.

It’s almost as if Laurent has chosen this song as some sort of conveyance that he understands where Makoto stands on the matter, and perhaps it’s selfish of him to interpret the song as something having to do with the two of them, but if that’s the case, Laurent is also conveying his own feelings.

Is he, though?

This could all just be a sad song that he’d chosen for the two of them to dance to, but it also doesn’t seem like something Laurent would do. On top of that, he was so stubborn about having this last performance during their talk the previous night. He’d wanted this one last shot because it would be the both of them together.

Makoto can’t bring himself to put the words together, even in his head, but he knows of one man who can. Almost panicked, he’s at his feet in an instant, snatching up his room key and his phone and beelining out the door and down the hall to Laurent’s room.

His heart is pounding as he raps away at Laurent’s door, screaming for the man to let him in. It takes nearly a whole minute for Laurent to answer, but when he does, he greets Makoto with the same relaxed smile as ever.

Makoto feels sick to his stomach with emotion. It feels like his insides have all turned upside down, and something like emotion is welling up in the back of his throat. He’s angry and scared and absolutely delighted all at the same time, and he has no idea what to do with himself.

What does he even say? He’s standing at the doorway with Laurent smiling lazily back down at him, and he wants to punch him and kick him and snatch him by the shirt and _kiss_ him all at the same time, but he can’t seem to settle on any one decision.

So he shoves Laurent first and foremost, the force of his own attack shocking even to himself. Laurent stumbles back in surprise, and Makoto takes advantage of the distance between them, storming inside and slamming the door shut behind him.

Laurent is visibly confused, the smile wiped clean off his face. He has managed to avoid losing his balance and falling over, but now that the distance is closed between them once more, he finds himself taking a cautious step back.

Makoto glares down at the ground, trying viciously to remind himself just what he’s supposed to be doing. He’s here for answers, but what kind of answers does he want? It feels like that’s all he’s been doing today—chasing people around and getting all worked up and having discussions, but when he really thinks about it, he doesn’t _want_ a discussion.

He just wants Laurent.

“Come here,” Makoto orders, unable to tear his gaze away from the ground.

“You shoved me away,” Laurent comments, sounding very much perplexed by what’s happening.

“Just come here.”

“Edamame?”

“ _Please_.”

Laurent hesitates, but he obeys, moving to stand closer to Makoto once more.

Makoto swallows down all the different things that are bubbling up inside him and reaches out, curling his arms tightly around Laurent’s frame. He buries his face in the man’s chest, and just stands there, clinging to him.

When Laurent hesitantly returns the gesture and wraps his arms around Makoto’s shoulders, that’s what does it for him. He can almost feel himself shaking as he sinks further into the contact, taking in the scent of Laurent’s cologne. He’s weak with emotion, and it’s all so powerful all at the same time. Those lyrics resonate strongly in his head, mingling with everything that has happened over the past month and coming to formulate a cocktail so powerful that even Lucy the bartender would have trouble doing a better job.

It hurts, and at the same time, it feels so relieving. Makoto doesn’t want anything more than to go back to Japan and try to finally exist as his own fucking _self_ , and if Laurent’s song recommendation is any telling factor, he too has accepted this fact.

But Makoto also doesn’t want to be apart from him. He _definitely_ has feelings for this dirty, selfish, conceited bastard, and there’s absolutely nothing he can do about it, because feelings simply don’t _work_ that way.

“Want me to sweep you off your feet, Edamame?” Laurent questions, his tone almost teasing. That in itself is a breath of fresh air from the tempest of thoughts and feelings ravaging Makoto’s heart and mind and fucking _nerve endings_ , and he scoffs in response, muffled against Laurent’s chest.

“You’re ruining the moment,” He grumbles, before he turns his gaze up to the other man. “But yeah. Maybe wipe that creepy smile off your face first, though.”

Laurent blinks for a few seconds, before he breathes out a few heavy chuckles. “I’m just going to preface this by saying I don’t understand you right now.”

“Don’t care,” Makoto grunts. “Tick tock, asshole.”

What he’s not ready for is for Laurent to _literally_ sweep him off his feet. He scoops Makoto up bridal style and carries him off to his bedroom. A bedroom that might as well be _theirs_ at this point.

Regardless, Makoto doesn’t protest when Laurent lowers him onto the mattress and moves to straddle his lap.

Makoto still hasn’t gotten the answers he had intended to come here for, but he can’t bring himself to care. He’ll figure it out later. Right now, he’s too busy kissing Laurent, savoring the slow, deep way with which the other man is returning the kiss. With a sense of potential awareness of the true sentiment of their situation hazed around them, it’s even more powerful, and Makoto finds he can’t get enough. They’re all over one another on that bed, Laurent straddling Makoto one moment, and Makoto rolling them and moving to rest atop Laurent the next.

His hands are everywhere all at once. One minute, he’s touching Laurent’s face with them, and the next, he has fistfuls of the man’s hair. Further down the line, he’s got Laurent’s shirt wide open and is mapping out his skin with his fingertips.

This is beyond crazy. Makoto’s head feels fuzzy to the point that he’s almost dizzy. He’s so overwhelmed, and at the same time, he can’t seem to get enough. Today has been absolutely crazy—one big surprise after another—and this is the perfect way to take the edge off of it.

It doesn’t take long for Makoto to wind up utterly naked in Laurent’s lap, with the man buried deep inside of him, his arms wrapped tightly around Laurent’s shoulders as he rides him. It’s strange, how the positioning of Laurent’s hands on his back remind him of the way he was holding him in the pool on the night where they’d kissed for the first time.

It also feels somewhat telling.

Makoto likes the way Laurent kisses at his jaw and his neck, before stealing a kiss from his lips once more. He revels in the shared heavy breathing between the both of them…how Laurent’s panting breaths are quickly shifting to something closer to moaning. His sounds are almost shaky as Makoto’s pace escalates. Makoto groans loudly when Laurent slides a hand between them and takes hold of his cock.

He knows he probably looks downright pitiful, with his brow furrowed in a mixture of pleasure and the internal conflict he can’t seem to let go of, but Laurent makes it better with every little kiss and the way his free hand holds tight to the small of his back, making him feel like the man might never let him go.

What comes after all of this? Naturally, Makoto is going back to Japan and allowing Team Confidence to do their own thing. But for the two of them, what happens next? Makoto hasn’t even confirmed Laurent’s feelings yet, but the question still arises, and while he’s in the middle of sex, no less. It’s something he’s starting to realize he’s not going to be able to stop thinking about, because he needs a resolution. Not knowing is going to kill him.

Laurent’s name spills from his lips as he rides his orgasm out on the man’s lap, leaning back to brace his hands on either of Laurent’s knees. He arches his chest out and picks up the pace, his release peppering both their chests and stomachs, and even as he’s overstimulated by physical and emotional pleasure, he doesn’t stop clear until Laurent climaxes along with him.

There’s a shift there. Makoto goes from being utterly overwhelmed to just plain exhausted. He sits upright, and then doubles over and plants his forehead on Laurent’s shoulder. As he pants his way through the afterglow, Laurent slides both arms around his waist and tips his head to kiss at his temple.

“Are you going to tell me what you came here for, now?”

Makoto hesitates only briefly, before he pulls off of Laurent’s cock and gets up to grab a washcloth. “I got what I came here for.”

“Wow.” Laurent laughs softly, and when Makoto makes his way back to the bed and starts cleaning them both up, he sees that the other man is sitting upright, his weight on his hands, grinning widely at him. “That’s got to be the first time you boldface lied to me.”

“I’m not lying to anyone,” Makoto grunts, almost a little irritated, as he plops down onto the bed next to Laurent and folds his hands behind his head.

Laurent gazes down at him, still not looking offended. After all, how could the guy? He just got laid. Either way, he’s downright smiling, which is a little unnerving, considering his next words. “There you go again. Come on, how bad could it be?”

Makoto had definitely come here with the intention of confirming the meaning behind Laurent’s song suggestion, but now that he’s being faced with the need to say something, he almost feels stupid. Still, he’s choosing to remain in Laurent’s bed, completely naked, so it’s not like he’s getting out of saying anything.

That in mind, he sighs and turns his gaze up to the ceiling. “I read the lyrics to that song. It really _is_ bittersweet.” He isn’t looking up at Laurent, but he can tell the other man is watching him, probably still grinning that dumbass grin of his. “I definitely have a better feel for what we want to put into our performance.”

Laurent either agrees with him and has nothing to say about the matter or simply knows Makoto isn’t done speaking, because he doesn’t respond. When Makoto glances over, he sees that Laurent is still smiling down at him. He swallows down a lump of nervousness in his throat.

“Now, call me crazy,” Makoto finally continues, his heart thrumming in his chest once more, “but that song’s kind of relatable, isn’t it?”

Laurent raises an eyebrow. “Mmm, I wonder…”

“I’m being serious.” Makoto narrows his eyes at him, but relaxes almost instantly afterward. “This situation has ‘you’re being a cagey bastard’ written all over it. You’re a pain in the ass with how you throw out little clues and just wait for me to put it all together, and making me look up the lyrics in private because you’re too romantic to just come out and say it…that just sounds like something you would do.”

Laurent’s smile doesn’t fade, even as he moves to scoot back and sit propped up against the headboard. His own gaze shifts to the blinds, which are shut at present. He looks like he’s contemplating going and opening them, but he doesn’t move. “How do you think I feel?”

Makoto lets out a frustrated sigh. “You don’t get to turn this on me. You’ll probably make fun of my accent if I say it.”

Laurent chuckles there. “That only makes me want to hear you say it more. But if you need to know that badly, I partly chose that song because I think it’s emotional enough to generate a response from our audience, and also because the big picture hits close to home.”

Makoto stares blankly at him following those words, before he nudges at Laurent’s thigh with his elbow. “Say it.”

“Say what?” Laurent laughs again, and earns himself another shove from Makoto.

“You _know_ what!” He sits bolt upright there, earning himself a look of surprise from Laurent.

“…Why are you so insistent on this? It’s a song.”

To be completely honest, Laurent is right. Makoto knows that in the end, it’s just a song. That it could mean nothing other than what Laurent has said thus far. But he also knows that there’s more to it, because when it comes to Laurent Thierry, there’s _always_ more to it.

“It’s because I’m trying to trust you,” Makoto answers, the explanation donning on him just as quickly as he says it. He doesn’t realize that’s what he’s doing until the words are out. But the instant he’s said them, it all makes sense. “Everything else you’ve gotten me involved in has always started out with a lie. You pretended you didn’t know anything other than that you had me scouted in Japan. You got an old man to teach me how to repair airplanes, and then made him lie to me about my own skills. You’ve screwed around with me time and time again, and suddenly, you’re giving me all these sweet smiles and being _romantic_ and _loyal_ , and I’m trying as hard as I can to think that maybe you’re being serious, but because you never _have_ been, I’m afraid to let myself think that it may be real, because…”

Makoto is tired. He’s so tired of being lied to and treated like just another part in a play. He’s gone and gotten attached to Laurent, and he wants with every fiber of his being to believe that the man genuinely cares about him and keeping him close isn’t just part of the plan, but what if it’s _not_?

What if Makoto has gone and set himself up for pain?

God, when did the thought of Laurent tossing him away ever become painful in the first place?

“It’s real.”

When Makoto turns his gaze back up to Laurent, the man is staring right back at him. His expression is calm, and he’s neither smiling nor frowning.

“I know I haven’t given you much reason to believe that,” Laurent continues once he knows he has Makoto’s attention, “but I can promise you that everything you’re bringing up to me now is real.”

Makoto nods his head. “Then say it. No flowery words, Laurent. You said it yourself: my English is shit. So spell it out to me as clearly as possible.”

Makoto isn’t sure what he’s expecting, but Laurent doesn’t hesitate. In just a handful of seconds, the blond has pivoted, reached out, and pulled Makoto in close for the single warmest hug he’s ever given. His grip tightens as he curls both arms around Makoto’s shoulders, burying one hand in his hair. He nuzzles at Makoto’s temple.

“I love you.”

Those words hit harder than Makoto can begin to express, and he can’t help but believe them, because Laurent’s grip tightens as he says them.

“I knew it was going to happen long before it did. You were so sure of yourself back in California, and it only showed more and more over time. When you tried to deal with Coleman all on your own, I was so proud of you, until I realized it was so much more than that.” He pulls back, looking Makoto in the eyes. “I definitely tried to seduce you while we were here, but you’ve said it yourself—I’m selfish.”

Makoto swallows down nervousness. Against his better judgment, he takes Laurent’s words straight to heart. They sound so far away, and yet, they’re right here. And the way he’s saying them, Makoto knows he means them.

“I don’t want you to go away,” Laurent continues, still tracing his fingers through Makoto’s hair even after having pulled back, “but I know you’re going to. _That’s_ why that song hits close to home.”

It’s a relief to hear that. Makoto still hasn’t quite put his own thoughts together on the matter, but it’s so good to hear Laurent speak honestly to him. Had he not asked, would the man have kept it to himself all this time? Probably.

Makoto can’t help but laugh there, giving Laurent another shove. “Okay, you can stop breaking character now.”

Laurent blinks. “I was perfectly in-character.”

“You didn’t even mispronounce my name,” Makoto reminds, smiling a bit, to which Laurent can’t help but grin as well. “Hell, you didn’t even try to _say_ my name.”

“I didn’t want you to get upset.” Laurent laughs a little, before he leans in and kisses Makoto’s lips once more. “You can’t tell me you’d take it seriously if I did.”

“Probably not,” Makoto agrees, before he slides out of Laurent’s hold and moves to lie back down in bed. “But thank you.” He turns and curls an arm around Laurent’s waist, peering at the blinds with him from over his lap.

“What does this mean?” Laurent questions, surprising Makoto a bit again. If anyone were to answer that question, Makoto would have been almost certain it would be him. “For us?”

Either way, he shakes his head. “I don’t know. But I’m tired…we’ll discuss it before we’re done here, okay?”

Laurent glances down at him, but Makoto can tell he’s resolved himself to that answer, as he simply smiles and places a hand atop Makoto’s head, ruffling his hair. “Alright. Goodnight, Edamame.”

The thing that Makoto _doesn’t_ tell Laurent is how he’s practically buzzing like a schoolkid with a crush on the inside. Hearing Laurent confess his feelings like that…Laurent Thierry of all people…

Makoto thinks that maybe he could love the guy, too.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> see also: me desperately googling how to keep laurent thierry in character while he's confessing his feelings
> 
> i am still absolutely blown away by the sheer outpouring of support that has come from y'all in response to this fic. i knew when i was writing the first chapter that i was going to expand upon it, but i hadn't expected that it would attract this much love and praise and just...god, thank you guys so much for giving it a read.
> 
> i can't believe it's almost done. thank you guys again, and i love y'all so much ; w;


	6. Chapter 6

There it is.

The look of utter disappointment Makoto had known Abbie would eventually be fixing him with when she realized what was going on between him and Laurent.

It happened by accident, but it’s not like Makoto has been all that careful to keep things a secret anymore. Besides, it was innocent—a quick kiss goodbye when going their separate ways to get ready for their day that Abbie had just happened to leave her room just in time to witness. As Makoto had shut Laurent’s hotel room door, he’d glanced over just in time to see her and Cynthia giving him one hell of a staredown.

And now, the three of them are having breakfast in Cynthia’s room. Cynthia has concocted some sort of fruity breakfast salad to go with bowls of cereal for each of them. Chances are, she and Abbie are pretty tuckered out from practice and she’s not feeling up to cooking anything extravagant so early in the morning. Come to think of it, they both look a little tired.

Neither of them have said anything about what they saw just yet, and as a result, things are almost painfully quiet. Makoto knows he’s not the only one who presently finds his breakfast to be the most interesting thing in the world, but if none of them want to talk about what happened, why did Cynthia invite him to breakfast again?

It’s been a long week. The first couple of nights, Makoto had touched base with everyone with regards to their plan. Initially, they’d discussed making sure it happened after the next performance, but Madeline has since reached out to them and requested they handle it the day of said performance instead. She has managed to convince her father to attend the showing privately. It’s apparently the only time slot she can get him to come observe in.

Everyone’s involved in their own way. Kenny, Madeline, and even Baxter. They’ve discussed the plan time and time again, but with how many variables are involved, they’ve left room for change. Everyone will have positions across the amphitheater.

Makoto and Laurent don’t make a habit of kissing just outside his hotel room door, but considering tonight is going to be the night where everything either comes together or gets blown all to hell, it’s only natural that they’d be a little more…what’s the word? Sweet to each other?

Love confession or not, that still sounds so foreign to Makoto. But it isn’t like he hasn’t fallen into perfect rhythm with this strange new romance between the two of them, either. Now that he knows that’s what it is, he’s let go of his inhibitions on the matter for the most part. It’s a good thing Cynthia and Abbie had gotten a studio of their own, because Makoto has _definitely_ gotten carried away making out with Laurent in the studio, and at least once, they have _definitely_ not stopped it at just kissing.

In fact, he can’t really think about that right now, because he’s not in a position where he can deal with the excitement that comes from recalling the memory. Thinking about Laurent taking him from behind with a hand in his hair while he got to watch everything in those mirrors…it does things to Makoto. Unfair things. Things that have him fighting back the urge to head right back to Laurent’s room.

“Well, you two have certainly come a long way,” Cynthia finally speaks up, the sound of her spoon clanking on her now empty bowl reminding Makoto of a knife slicing smoothly through butter. When he looks up at her, she’s smiling as sweetly as ever, though. “This definitely looks a lot more different than you trying to sneak out of his room and tripping all over yourself.”

Abbie isn’t saying anything, but the look like she’s got something sour in her mouth makes it pretty clear how she feels about the situation.

“Yeah, well…I was as surprised as you are at first,” he admits through the heat practically boiling over on his face. The strawberries in Cynthia’s salad suddenly become very entertaining to roll around with his fork. “But…things happened, I guess.”

“Things _have been_ happening,” Cynthia clarifies almost warmly. “You want to know the strange thing about it?” When Makoto looks up at her, her smile is broad and almost playful. “The two of you are perfect for each other.”

Abbie nods her head. “Unfortunately.”

Makoto laughs nervously, but before he can say anything, Cynthia presses on.

“You put up with his bullshit, and on some level, he actually listens to you.” She shrugs her shoulders. “I’m pretty sure he’s been infatuated with you since Los Angeles, but he’s so wrapped up in his scheming all the time that even he didn’t notice.”

Abbie speaks up there. “The one time you turn around and start pulling all the strings, he doesn’t know what to do with himself.”

“I’m not pulling all the strings.” Makoto frowns.

“In a way, you are,” Cynthia disagrees. “Taking it upon yourself to keep in touch with Kenny, visiting with Madeline, insisting on learning more…our poor resident French jackass has been stuck in hotel rooms and studios hoping and praying that his soybean knows what he’s doing.” She points at him with a fork that she has stabbed a few blueberries onto. “What I’m getting at is that he’s had no choice but to count wholly on you because Abbie and I have been branched off and he’s only your manager this time. You’ve impressed him.”

“That’s really nice to hear and all, but…” Makoto laughs nervously. “This all started _before_ the competition.”

“I know,” Cynthia responds around another smile, before she pops the blueberries into her mouth. “But there’s a pretty stark difference between hooking up and being _together_. I don’t know when the two of you established it, but it’s been going on for a pretty long time.”

“Yeah,” Abbie agrees around a mouthful of cereal, “the way the two of you get all googly eyed and weepy when you’re around each other is sickening.”

“I…think that’s a compliment?” Makoto laughs nervously.

“It’s not,” Abbie says without missing a beat.

Thankfully, the subject changes direction there. Cynthia’s expression grows more serious and focused as she draws her gaze to the sliding door that would lead out to her balcony. “Today’s the big day, though. Are you ready?”

Makoto nods slowly, though he’s actually pretty unsure about his answer. “As ready as I’ll ever be, yeah.”

Cynthia softens a bit at those words. “You were so certain before.”

“Yeah, well,” Makoto scrubs at the back of his neck nervously, “that was before today got here. It’s gonna get crazy, and fast. And there’s a lot riding on this. If it goes wrong, Madeline loses her father’s trust, Bax probably goes to jail, and Natalie isn’t getting out any time soon. We’ll be disappointing Kenny and a whole armada of other people who are counting on us.”

“All the more reason to get it right the first time,” Abbie points out simply, before she focuses on her breakfast once more. “You just need to pull that weird shit you do where you go from thinking way too much to not using what little brain you have at all. It’ll be fine.”

Makoto narrows his eyes at Abbie, but eventually, his brain seems to conclude that she’s trying to reassure him, so he doesn’t push the issue. Instead, he focuses on the breakfast Cynthia concocted for them and decides that maybe he’ll pop by the capsule machines later on to psych himself up.

\--- --- --- --- ---

_Well into the night following Laurent’s admission of his feelings, Makoto is still wide awake. Laurent has fallen fast asleep, and his breathing and the sounds of the city outside the window are the only ambient noises Makoto has to carry him off to sleep as well._

_But sleep doesn’t seem to want to come._

_In Makoto’s defense, he has a lot to think about. It’s been a great deal of help to spend all the time he had with Madeline and Cyd and Laurent to formulate a plan, but that also means that all of this…all of these weeks upon weeks…it’s finally coming to a head. If it all works out the way they’re hoping it will, their time in Vegas will be a thing of the past._

_Makoto misses Japan. He misses all the familiar faces in his neighborhood and the old shopkeeper he got his capsule toys from. He aches to visit his mother’s grave and tell her all about everything that has happened. He longs to settle down and start living a normal life._

_But he’s going to miss Vegas, too. In a way, he’s going to miss it all. Los Angeles, Singapore, London, France, and all that’s led him to where he is now. Cynthia, Abbie, Kenny, and even Madeline. At the very least, he may be able to keep in contact with Kudo without getting dragged into anything else._

_He’s going to miss Laurent._

_Regardless of the feelings they discussed, things won’t be allowed to continue like this. Makoto doesn’t know if what they’re doing counts as a relationship at this point or not, but he knows that it’s all going to change once he leaves. This isn’t a movie—the main character can’t simply throw out who he is all for the sake of love. That’s not how it works in the real world. When it all boils down, he and Laurent are simply two very different people with two very different outlooks on how their lives should go._

_In retrospect, maybe it would have done Makoto some good to discuss Laurent’s question before either of them had tried to sleep, but he really had been tired. In fact, he’d damn near been asleep before his mind had snapped him awake with the apparent urge to think about everything all at once just as he was about to get some much-needed rest._

_Laurent is naturally a very close sleeper. After having fallen asleep in the same bed as the man several times now, Makoto has learned that he has a tendency to turn and wrap an arm around him or bury his face in his hair. For that reason, when Makoto decides to get up for a few minutes, he has to gently untangle himself from that hold. He sits upright once he’s done so and gazes down at Laurent to ensure he's still fast asleep._

_Laurent shifts only slightly, but he doesn’t seem to have awakened, so Makoto figures it’s okay for him to keep going, but he still can’t help but stop short to take in the sight of the man sleeping next to him._

_Laurent looks good on a regular basis. He’s almost always dressed in a way that compliments his features perfectly. But in bed, naked, with the sheets having messed up his hair, it’s even more so. Makoto allows himself the shamelessly romantic observation that this is a part of Laurent only he gets to see right now._

_He lets out a soft scoff at that thought, and then carefully climbs out of bed and heads for the sliding door leading outside. He’s mindful to scoop up his clothing and slide into them on the way out._

_It’s well into the night, and it’s chilly, but Makoto heads for the edge of the pool anyway. He rolls up his pant legs and takes a seat on the edge of it, letting his feet dangle in the water as he peers out at the lights once more. Even this late, the city is still lit up as brightly as ever, and it’s kind of cathartic to see._

_Makoto had enjoyed this very view on their first night in Vegas. Although it had soon been accompanied by an alarmingly naked French bastard, he had still enjoyed the sight of the city lights and all the sounds coming from below. He’s high enough up that the sounds are distant and almost quiet, which is soothing in its own way._

_In less than a week, this will all be over, and despite hatching out a big plan for what they’re going to do, Makoto can’t shake the sensation of the unknown. He’s never met Craig Bettany before, but if the man is as unpredictable as his daughter is, they’re in for a very interesting situation. After running their discussion by Abbie and Cynthia, Makoto feels a little better about things, but it’s still so up in the air that he can’t convince himself it’s all going to work out._

_Not unlike Team Confidence, everyone else is certain it’ll go the way they’re hoping it will. They’re all calm and relaxed about it and not suspecting that anything will fall out of place. Maybe it’s because of the fact that money isn’t involved this time around, though. Even Makoto doubts it’s as dangerous as, say, dealing with the west coast equivalent of the Mafia a la Eddie Cassano, so they likely don’t have getting killed to worry about. But Craig himself is infamous for ruining people’s lives, and if he sees fit, he may very well be able to put Makoto and the rest of the group behind bars._

_What an entertaining thought, actually. Laurent and Cynthia and Abbie in prison scrubs. Abbie would probably run the whole damn show in there. Knowing Cynthia and Laurent, they’d figure out a way out. How exactly they’d do that is beyond Makoto, but he doesn’t doubt them for a second._

_Still…is it all going to work out? Makoto has been spending all these weeks practicing for performance after performance, and coming from someone with no prior experience in the field, he’s managed to pull it off. Acting is something he’s gotten a handle of thanks to all the time he’d learned to become a scam artist back in Japan, but this is on a pretty grand scale. Good actor or not, he’d still gotten nervous every other time he and Team Confidence had stepped out to do their thing on previous scams._

_Makoto briefly finds himself thinking that he could really go for a stiff drink right now, but he casts the thought aside and instead focuses on turning his brain off. He pays attention to the scenery before him instead and allows himself to zone out._

_Overthinking doesn’t go away that easily, however. It may be a little more subdued by how pretty everything looks, but Makoto is still running over all the fine details regarding everything that’s happened thus far. He’s so lost in thought that he doesn’t hear Laurent coming outside to join him until the man is sat down right next to him._

_Big surprise, he’s still naked. But Makoto also can’t help but notice how sleepy he looks. His eyes look a little heavier, making it obvious he’d just awakened, but he’s still smiling at Makoto as if nothing is different at all._

_Not unlike their first night in Vegas, Makoto balks at the sight of the naked blond sitting next to him._

_“You’ve got to be freezing,” he comments simply, his expression a little on the sarcastic side._

_“Maybe you should hold me,” Laurent flirts shamelessly, still smiling. “That ought to warm me up.”_

_“Or, you know, you could just put clothes on,” Makoto deadpans, leaning back to rest his weight on his hands. “Did I wake you?”_

_“You’re not very sneaky,” Laurent replies, before he yawns and turns his gaze out to the horizon. “Besides, I suspected your tendency to overthink would get the better of you and you wouldn’t sleep.”_

_“Right, because now that we’re lovers, you know me so well.” The words spill before Makoto can really think about them. What was intended as a sarcastic remark actually comes off as an implication of something else entirely, and before he knows it, he’s blushing bright red._

_“We’re lovers, are we?” The lilt in Laurent’s voice is mildly irritating, but Makoto figures he’s earned it. Rather than lash out, he shoots Laurent a dirty look and then focuses back out on the city._

_“You’re the one who gave the big love confession.”_

_“You practically dragged it out of me!” Laurent barks in laughter. “Not that I wasn’t serious, but you can hardly use it against me when you wanted to hear it as badly as you did.”_

_Makoto tenses again. “I wanted to know for sure. You’re so damned mysterious about everything that I couldn’t tell, and…” He reaches up, running his fingers through his own hair. “How am I supposed to think about reciprocating if I don’t know it’s actually there?”_

_Laurent’s smile softens, his stare never leaving the Las Vegas horizon. “Well, it’s there. Do you plan on reciprocating? Good pronunciation, by the way.”_

_Makoto chokes. Laurent always has to throw in the fucking English lesson when he gets the chance, doesn’t he? “Shut up.” When Laurent simply shrugs, Makoto clears his throat and focuses on his question. “This discussion would be way easier if you had clothes on.”_

_Laurent hums thoughtfully. “It sounds to me like you’re procrastinating, Edamame.”_

_“Makoto.”_

_“…Excuse me?” Laurent cocks an eyebrow, facing Makoto this time._

_“You heard me.” Makoto sits upright and crosses his arms. “Call me by my name.” He’s even giving him permission to use the first name, so surely, Laurent will jump on the opportunity to do so freely, rather than throwing it in every so often for the sake of shock value._

_Laurent raises both eyebrows this time. “Understood. What about the others?”_

_Makoto shakes his head. “They’re gonna find out sooner or later. Cynthia saw me leaving your room a long time ago anyway—in your pajamas, no less.”_

_The surprised look on Laurent’s space shocks Makoto, too. Cynthia hasn’t told him what she saw? Why in the hell would she keep that observation to herself? Maybe there are members of this group who actually do respect a guy’s privacy…_

_“Alright, I’ll keep that in mind. Edamame really does suit you, though.”_

_“Do I look like an appetizer to you!?” Makoto gives Laurent a rough shove._

_“Actually, you look more like a whole—”_

_Makoto lunges forward and claps a hand over the other man’s mouth. “Nope, no—on second thought, you don’t get to answer that.”_

_Laurent simply laughs, before he leans back and rests on his hands. “Are you alright?”_

_Makoto blinks for a moment, but eventually nods. “Yeah. I’m just a little worried about how this whole thing is going to go.”_

_“I imagined as much,” Laurent understands aloud. “But it’s always worked out before, hasn’t it?”_

_“I know,” Makoto answers around a sigh, “but it’s still pretty scary, you know?”_

_Laurent seems lost in thought briefly, before he pushes himself to his feet. “Why don’t you come back to bed? We can talk more in there.”_

_Initially, Makoto thinks that he wants to protest, but Laurent is sitting out here naked, and if the dude doesn’t get somewhere warm, he’ll probably up and get himself sick. He’s such an idiot, sometimes…_

_“Fine. Only because you’re going to catch a cold sitting out here with your junk out.”_

_\--- --- --- --- ---_

The morning drags on into afternoon before Laurent is present to join the rest of the group in Cynthia’s hotel room. But by the time he shows up, everyone’s there. Cynthia, Abbie, Kudo, Kenny, and even Baxter and Madeline. Laurent arrives with takeout food for everyone and moves to sit on the couch. Everyone has pulled up all the chairs in Cynthia’s suite to gather around the coffee table, and they’re soon stuffing their faces on steamed rice and chicken.

The initial plan is to discuss what they’re going to do—to go over the plan one last time before they set everything into motion—but in the end, Madeline cuts them all off and decides they just need a break. Her words make sense on some level, as they’ve hashed the plan out time and time again since they’d put it together in the first place. Worrying about it more is only going to make them more liable to screw up.

So rather than discuss the plan, they carry on and enjoy themselves in pleasant conversation. As if there isn’t anything going on outside the walls of their hotel room—as if they aren’t about to move forward in a plan that could cost all of them their livelihoods, they chat among one another.

“Okay, but serious question,” Kenny starts. It amazes Makoto somewhat just how calm he can be around Madeline despite her hand in the arrest of his sister. Either he’s made peace with the fact that such a thing isn’t what Madeline wanted or he’s faking it until he can get himself and Natalie as far away from her as possible. Either way, they all focus on Kenny, who is addressing Madeline directly. “Why’d you go with Avery?”

Madeline is in the process of pulling her long hair back into a ponytail when he asks her that question. She ponders it for a moment, finishing up with her hair, and then leans back in her seat on the couch. “One of my cousins was friends with a girl named Avery,” she explains simply, shrugging her shoulders. “It sounded cool to me. When I first started performing here, I actually wanted that to be my stage name, but that never quite happened. Instead, it ended up being my cover-up for when I wanted to go out and be a normal human being.” A nervous laugh follows her words.

“It’s a pretty name,” Cynthia says after swallowing a mouthful of rice. “I think it would have suited you as a stage name, too.”

As Madeline giggles in response to that, Makoto speaks up. “I definitely didn’t suspect anything when Cyd introduced you as that during Bingo.”

Avery’s smile broadens. “That’s the goal, kid.”

“Edamura’s probably a lot older than you, you know,” Kenny comments around a laugh of his own. “Kind of funny for you to be calling him a kid.”

“That’s what I’ve been saying!” Makoto agrees loudly, and most of the group laughs in response. Makoto sees Abbie get to her feet in the middle of it, heading for the balcony. He frowns and then gets up as well, ignoring the curious glance from Laurent. Seeing as the guy isn’t getting up to follow, Makoto figures he’s not all that concerned.

By the time he emerges, Abbie is leaned against the railing that guards the edge of the balcony, her arms folded over it. For a moment, he allows her her silence, but eventually, he moves to stand a couple feet away from her, resting his hands on the railing and staring ahead.

“When all of this is over,” he starts, “are you going to keep competing?”

Abbie pauses for a moment, but she’s as deadpan as ever when she finally speaks up. “Depends on how it goes.”

“You mean if the plan works or not?”

“No,” Abbie responds. “We all know what happens if the plan works. Natalie and Baxter get their names cleared and our star gets to continue being a star. I wanna see how Madeline handles it.”

Makoto frowns, but Abbie continues before he can question her.

“Madeline plays like she feels bad for what happened, but we don’t actually know her,” Abbie explains. “Besides, she doesn’t just get to clear her conscience like that. She deserves to suffer just as much as the two whose lives her father ruined did.”

Makoto nods his head slowly in acknowledgment of her words. “I mean, she gets to live with it. Maybe that’s why she and Bax have been working together so closely—seeing his face every day after what happened can’t be easy for her. But if she’s serious about fixing everything, I think that’s good enough.”

Abbie scoffs. “We’ll see. Anyway, what about you?”

“What _about_ me?”

“You’re not gonna get any bright ideas while we’re in there, are you?” She narrows her eyes at him. “You have a habit of throwing your own dipshit-branded spin on these plans. What we’ve got going on _will_ work, so don’t screw it up.”

Makoto laughs a bit nervously. “I know it will. I won’t change anything up unless I think it’s necessary.”

Abbie narrows her eyes. “That isn’t reassuring at all.”

Makoto just shrugs. “I won’t know until we’re in there. Who knows what could happen?”

Abbie stares at him for a moment, before she lets out a sigh. “And if it all goes the way you want it to…what will you do?”

Again, Makoto shrugs. “Finish up here, enjoy the city a bit more, and then do what I’ve wanted to do all along.” He doesn’t have to tell her that he’s saying he wants to go back to Japan. They all know this much at this point.

Abbie scoffs. “You think it’ll work this time?”

“Yep,” Makoto responds, certain of his words. “I’m not going to let it go any other way.”

He watches Abbie raise both eyebrows, but she doesn’t say anything. Instead, she pops him upside the head and turns, heading back inside. Makoto follows her with his own gaze, but before he can head back inside himself, Kenny steps out and pulls the sliding door shut behind him. He looks…concerned. Makoto frowns and watches as he makes his way to the railing.

That happy demeanor crumbles at the edge of it, and Kenny suddenly slumps over, letting out a long, labored sigh. “I think I’m gonna be sick.”’

Makoto knows why. “Are you alright?”

Kenny shakes his head, but responds affirmatively anyway. “Yeah. It’s just…that woman had a hand in my sister’s arrest. Thanks to her, Natalie’s been suffering in prison for over a year. And yet, she’s so nice and pleasant.” He glares down over the balcony. “It’s not like I expected her to drop to her knees and grovel at my feet or anything, but…can’t she act a little more guilty?”

Makoto doesn’t even bother trying to defend her. He feels the same way, to be honest. Their discussion the night after he received that threatening text message from her had enlightened him a great deal, and it’s obvious she _does_ feel some guilt for the situation, but she knows by now that Kenny is Natalie’s sister, so why not apologize to him directly?

“Did you know she really did have feelings for your sister?” Makoto questions softly, his brow furrowed in a frown. “She was hurt because Natalie rejected her, and she went to her father for comfort and reassurance. Even she hadn’t been ready for him to retaliate like he did. I can only imagine how much that bothers her.”

Kenny glances up at him, but he speaks up before the guy can respond.

“I’m not going to defend her actions, but could you give her until after this is all said and done? After the plan. We don’t want her mind being elsewhere during, but if you’ve got something to say to her, do it afterward.”

Kenny hesitates, but eventually nods his head. “Yeah, of course.”

In Makoto’s honest opinion, Kenny is a very strong young man. It’s difficult to keep your self-control about you in situations like this, and had Makoto been in his shoes, it would have been just as daunting for him to keep his cool as it seems to be for Kenny. But he can tell in the way the man responds that he plans on doing just that.

It’s also in seeing the way Kenny feels about this whole competition that Makoto makes a silent decision of his own regarding his place in the competition.

For now, though, he needs to focus on tonight. The moment of truth is just hours away.

\--- --- --- --- ---

_“That is…the one and only time I’m letting you distract me during practice.”_

_Makoto is in the middle of washing up in the studio’s restroom, while Laurent stands in the doorway after having done so himself. He’s got his back leaned up against the frame as he adjusts the waistband of his shorts while he waits. Makoto is beyond flushed, his legs feeling even weaker than usual. Hopefully once the high cast by the afterglow fades, he’ll be back up to full strength. Right now, all he wants to do is sleep._

_“What do you want me to say? You looked like you needed a distraction.”_

_Makoto side-eyes him hard, before he shrugs his shirt on once more and splashes some water onto his face. “What I needed was to get the steps right.”_

_Despite those words, he can’t deny that he’d been just as into it as Laurent had. All it had taken was for him to make some sly comment about how good Makoto looked when he got into it and then mention how he could see everything for himself in the mirrors. Next thing he knew, Laurent had him on his knees, fucking him right there where he could see literally everything._

_Initially, Makoto had felt embarrassed, but complete with the cacophony of dirty talk and praise Laurent had been given him, god…it had been so good. Mind you, it hadn’t been himself Makoto had been focused on the entire time. It was seeing the way Laurent was watching him through the mirror while he claimed him. Kissing at his neck, smirking at him through the reflection…he’d known exactly what he was doing, and the end result had been a very spent, very satisfied Makoto Edamura barely able to support his own weight even while doubled over on the ground._

_But now that that’s all said and done, the embarrassment is there. It’s a damned good thing Cynthia and Abbie decided to get a new studio, he supposes. Now, he’s not going to be able to focus right because he’s going to remember that moment for a long, long time._

_Thankfully, they don’t really use the mirrors for their practices in this round. On top of that, he and Laurent have already gotten pretty good at the steps for their dance. They’ve finally got a routine figured out, so it’s just a matter of refining the moves, adding in whatever little touches they see fit, and making sure it’s perfect by the time they’re due out to perform._

_“We have time, you know,” Laurent comments as Makoto strolls out of the restroom and past him. “At this point, it’s just a matter of fine-tuning everything we’ve come up with—”_

_“—then let’s fine-tune,” Makoto cuts him off, moving to stand in the center of the dance floor. He’s still exhausted, but…well, he doesn’t know what. Maybe he’s so worked up about this because of what’s coming. Maybe, if this is possibly going to be their last performance, he wants it to be absolutely flawless._

_When it comes to situations like this, Makoto has never been very good at articulating his feelings, even to himself. It’s usually the advice of others or a memory of something or the flash of inspiration from whatever capsule toy he got that day that helps him to put it all together. As of late, he’s sort of been winging the whole thing for himself. He’s not alone by any means, but at the same time, he hasn’t stopped to think about how he personally feels._

_One thing he does know is that this particular dance matters to him a lot more than the first few had. It’s about a lot of things, but the most important one is that he’s making a statement. After being challenged by Madeline—outright told he couldn’t dance—he’s determined to show her that he’s adaptable enough to figure it out, at least on some level. No, he’s not a professional, but if he’s running the risk of going out, he’s going to go out with a bang._

_And maybe he also wants Laurent to be able to remember that moment the most strongly. Because he’s never getting mixed up in another one of the man’s schemes again. This will count as a piece of nostalgia, reserved just for him, that will live on for his many years scheming without Makoto by his side._

_That’s right…it’s for closure. It’s perhaps a bit of a weird brand of closure, but closure no less._

_Laurent merely scoffs to himself as he pushes off the doorframe and follows Makoto out onto the floor. Like so many times before, they come together and he uses his phone to turn on the music once more. He’s silent, and Makoto gets the feeling it’s because he’s already figured out what Makoto is trying to say. Or well, he probably thinks he’s figured it out. There’s really no telling what goes on in that flighty, perverted mind of his._

_Either way, he’s getting that one last dance he asked for out of it, so maybe that’s why he’s not exactly protesting._

_They really have gotten the steps down quite well. As they roll through the song time and time again, it’s without pause. Laurent simply verbally corrects a move here and there or directs one of Makoto’s hands elsewhere. He mentions a step where Makoto can flourish his wrist or perhaps make his moves a bit more dramatic, but when it all boils down to it, they’re already very familiar with what they need one another to do._

_Considering how things have been between them for the past handful of weeks, Makoto figures he shouldn’t be all that surprised. But one thing he does know for certain is the extra practice is bringing him some level of reassurance. When it comes time for him to finally be up on that stage, he doesn’t want to have to mentally recite those steps or remember what practicing with Laurent felt like._

_He wants to be completely enveloped in the moment—in their performance. In that one last dance._

_\--- --- --- --- ---_

Makoto is ready. Or well, about as ready as he’ll ever be. It isn’t like he’s never been involved in high-stakes situations like this one, but just like all of those, he’s as nervous as ever. It doesn’t show on his face, though. Instead, he’s focused on Madeline’s words being spoken to him over the phone.

 _“Dad’s here, but privately. There’s no way he’s going to involve himself directly with the show until the top ten.”_ Madeline’s voice is direct and stern as she speaks. Makoto takes comfort in it, considering her role in this whole situation is probably the most important. “ _He’s expecting me in a few minutes, but he’s used to people catching word of him being around, so he’s undoubtedly got security scattered around. You’ve got twelve performers going onstage before you, so give or take twenty minutes to do what you have to do.”_

Makoto nods as if she can see him, but doesn’t breathe a word. He’s got to be as quiet as possible. Knowing he’s probably going to get stopped by security is intense enough, but he’d rather they show up later rather than sooner. For now, he follows the directions Madeline gives him, heading through the darkened back halls of the amphitheater.

 _“I’ll get there as quickly as I can. Just make sure you get to my dad before I do.”_ She seems to know that Makoto can’t respond to her, because she hangs the call up at that, and Makoto is suddenly left to his own devices.

According to Madeline, the lights in these halls are all motion-activated, but when her father is present and doesn’t want to be found, he shuts them all off. It’s dark, but the bright red fire exit lights give Makoto just enough visibility to do as he’s been instructed. If Madeline’s directions are correct, he takes the stairwell just ahead up to the top floor and then enters the second door on the left. It’s not too far ahead…

He slips into the stairwell easily enough. The good news is that Makoto is naturally light on his feet, so he doesn’t have much issue being quiet. Even going up concrete stairs, he thinks he’s doing pretty well. He stops at each flight, crouching behind the corner, and peers up. So far so good.

At the third floor, he freezes. He can distantly hear a voice. He stops, listening in, as the deep voice of an older man floods the corridor. It’s just one man, probably speaking into a radio earpiece. He’s not talking about anything too important—mostly complaining about how dark it is in the building, a la “I don’t understand why he shuts the lights off—we’re already sweeping the place, right?”

Makoto thinks he’s got a good point, but he waits for an opening that comes when the guy tells his partner to switch out for him because he wants something to eat. Makoto hears footsteps, followed by a door swinging shut, before he races up the stairs and around the corridor to the next floor. Conveniently, it’s the top floor, and not surprisingly, there are two guards at the very door Madeline had instructed him to go through. He slips into the restroom on the right just in time to avoid being seen by the two men, but the sound of the door creaking grabs both of their attention.

“What the hell’re you waitin’ for?” One of them commands sternly. “Go check it out.”

The corridor to the restroom doesn’t have doors, so Makoto has managed to sneak into one of the stalls pretty quietly, but when he hears that set of footsteps entering, he knows hiding in the stalls isn’t going to work for him. On top of that, it’s just one set of footsteps. That means that even if he does slip past this one guard, he’s got the other to deal with.

“…Oh man, I swear this place is haunted…” The guard roaming the restroom complains, trying the first stall. Makoto is hiding in the furthest one on the end, but it’s not going to do him much good for long.

“It’s an amphitheater, Finn,” the other guard grumbles from outside in the hall. “What the hell could be haunting an amphitheater?”

“I don’t know…” The man’s quivering voice tells Makoto he’s genuinely afraid, and it gives him an idea that definitely beats his initial thought to climb over the metal of the stalls and risk falling headfirst into a toilet. “It’s kind of like how that studio where they recorded _Love Rollercoaster_ is probably haunted because someone was getting murdered while it was happening.”

The second stall door flies open and Makoto cringes, biting back the urge to yelp in fear.

“You know that’s bullshit, right?” The voice outside of the restroom speaks up again. It’s growing less distant, which tells Makoto he’s decided to help his partner investigate. “That’s just an urban legend.”

“You can hear the scream, though…” The first voice comments as he checks the third stall. He’s so close that Makoto is borderline panicking. “That’s scarier than a horror movie scream, Piers…”

The aforementioned Piers scoffs, but the fact that he’s close enough that Makoto can see his feet in front of the fourth stall door tells him it’s time to act. He inhales a deep breath, lets out the loudest scream he can manage, and thrusts himself hard at the metal door.

If not for the fact that he was trying to play into the ghost act the men were hyping themselves up about, he’d probably have started laughing at the whimpers and screams that had followed the move. Before he knows what to do with the sudden ache in his head and shoulder, the men are tearing out of the room and the door leading out to the stairs suddenly swings open and shut. They can be heard screaming their ways downstairs, and Makoto deems himself safe and slides out under the stall door.

It's a surprise he didn’t break the damn door open with how hard he’d lunged forward. His shoulder really _does_ hurt now…

Either way, he starts out of the restroom and makes his way to the door Madeline had told him to go through.

When he opens it, he’s a little surprised by what he sees. It’s a surveillance room, where one would think the guards would be watching rather than lining the building like something out of a stealth game, but there’s one very familiar man standing, facing the door. He looks as if he was about to walk out and see what all the commotion was, but he stops short when Makoto enters.

“Excuse me?” None other than Craig Bettany questions. “You’re one of the performers…what’re you doing here?”

Makoto has seen Craig in pictures from online articles before, but he looks significantly less pleasant in person. His hair is a dirty shade of blond with a few gray streaks, his face stretched with age. But it’s the cold stare in his hazel eyes that scares Makoto more than anything. In all the pictures online, he’d always thought the man had bright blue eyes…did he wear contacts or something? Either way, the way he’s looking at Makoto right now makes him more nervous than he wants to be.

He immediately dips into a bow, forcing himself to put on the act. “Sorry for the intrusion! I just…really needed to talk to you.”

Craig frowns deeply. “…You bypassed my security to talk? What’re you up to?”

Makoto laughs nervously. “I was desperate. I know getting the chance to speak to you isn’t an easy feat, but I didn’t feel like dropping out was a good idea if I didn’t talk to you first.”

“You’re dropping out?” Craig’s frown deepens, but once he starts to realize he’s not in any danger, his posture relaxes and he instead crosses his arms over his chest. “If I recall right, you’re the kid who screamed at the judges in Japanese.”

Seriously…why in the hell does everyone think Makoto is a _kid_? He bites back frustration and clears his throat. “Your daughter said the exact same thing.”

“You met Madeline?”

Makoto shrugs. “I went out to play Bingo with a friend. She and her aunt were there. We hit it off really fast that night. See, that’s kind of why I wanted to talk to you.” When he notices he’s managed to grab Craig’s attention, he keeps speaking. “I just don’t think it’s fair that I keep participating knowing I’ve gotten this attached to her. It wouldn’t be fair, and it seems a little biased. I don’t want to come off as predatory. But at this point, I’d just be trying to win so that I could be by her side.”

 _Bingo_. Craig’s face says it all.

Just then, the doors burst open and two security officers, this time sporting helmets and bulletproof vests, come sprinting in. They’re at Craig’s side in seconds, with guns raised toward Makoto. Immediately, Makoto thrusts his hands up into the air.

“Hold on, I’m not trying to attack anyone!” He defends quickly. “You can pat me down—I’m unarmed!”

Craig glances between the two officers, before he gestures with his hands for them to lower their weapons. “It’s fine—I can handle the kid.” He then directs his attention to Makoto. “You’re romantically interested in my daughter, and you’re dropping out to avoid coming off as a creep? Did I get that right?”

Makoto nods his head, hands slowly lowering from the air to rest at his sides. “Yeah. I know the last two winners didn’t exactly leave a good reputation for all that. I’m not about to lose everything over a sexual harassment charge.”

Craig raises both eyebrows. “What are you suggesting?”

Makoto shakes his head. “Well, I just professed my love for your daughter, Mister Bettany. And once I’m free of this competition, maybe I’ll be able to work toward earning her affection, too.”

Craig’s frown returns. “You recall what happened to the last man who attempted to pursue her, right?”

“I’m vaguely familiar with the story, yeah,” Makoto replies. “He supposedly made unwanted advances on her and lost everything when you terminated his contract because of it.”

The hesitation tells him everything he needs to know. Makoto, suddenly feeling more confident, keeps speaking.

“Or do you want me to win the competition first so that you can destroy me, too?”

Craig tenses all over again. “You know more than you’re letting on.”

Makoto shrugs. “I know that you’re very protective of your daughter, to the point that you’d demonize a man who wasn’t even interested in her to protect her reputation.”

“Excuse me?”

“Did you know that Baxter Wiggins is gay?” Makoto pushes. “He complimented your daughter’s hair and you did away with him instantly upon finding out. It’s almost as if you wanted some reason to continue the competition…to make things interesting, maybe draw in some more viewers out of pure, controversial shock value.”

“You’re a little too cocky for your own good,” Craig observes, the sardonic smirk on his face all-telling of the situation. “So what if you’re right? It’s a dog-eat-dog world. I suppose you’re lucky that you’re just dropping out so that I don’t have to handle you the same way.”

“Am I?” Makoto’s own confidence shakes him to the core, but he keeps going. “Maybe I’ll just keep going—snag the win anyway to see how far you’ll take things.”

“And I’ll destroy you,” Craig retorts instantly. “You forget, kid—I run this show. I’ve got the audience, judges, _and_ my daughter on my side.”

“Do you?” Makoto reaches into the breast pocket of his black suit, pulling out the pen he’s had tucked into it. He clicks the end of it, and then pushes a button on the side. The exact conversation they’d just had plays aloud for both of them to hear. “Don’t worry, Mister Bettany—I’m not going to use this unless I have to.”

Craig’s outright scowling at this point. Makoto tucks the pen back into his pocket as he keeps speaking. “I also happen to know that you falsely accused another previous competitor of theft, and she’s been rotting in prison ever since. You want to keep this show going without losing your entire viewer base? Clear their names. Say you found the real culprit and help us get Natalie out of jail. Pay for her school expenses, and let her move on with her life. After that, you won’t hear from me aga—”

In an instant, Makoto has been slammed back up against the wall next to the door by the throat. He’s significantly smaller than Craig, so it’s no surprise he manages to do so as easily as he does. Either way, Craig reaches into Makoto’s breast pocket with his free hand and removes the pen, snapping it in half with one hand.

“Screw your evidence. Your biggest mistake was coming here alone.”

Makoto hadn’t expected to be cornered like this, and with no Madeline in sight, he’s suddenly panicking all over again. Craig’s grip on his throat is purposeful and he genuinely can’t breathe, so he’s stuck clawing helplessly at the hand holding onto him. Craig, irritated by it, snatches one of those hands away and pins it against the wall, too.

“I’m not stupid enough to kill you, but breaking and entering is a crime, and so is blackmail. You’ll sit in prison right alongside that girl, and your story will make headlines. You’ll be the Japanese hopeful who tried to bribe your way to the top for the sake of hooking up with Madeline. You’ll be a laughingstock.”

“That’s enough!” One of the officers removes their helmets, and Makoto’s eyes slip open to see Madeline standing there, in uniform. Her eyes are wide and glassy with the big tears that start rolling down her cheeks. “Why are you so determined to be like this!?” She pleads, storming forward and smacking his hand down away from Makoto’s throat. Makoto collapses to his knees there, gasping for breath. His throat and neck hurt fiercely, but at least he can breathe now.

In an instant, the other soldier is at his side. When the helmet comes off, Makoto sees it’s Laurent crouched next to him. He doesn’t recall either of them showing up like this being part of the plan. It’s kind of laughable, considering Abbie and Cynthia’s insistence that Makoto stick to how things were supposed to go.

“Are you alright?” Laurent questions, to which Makoto nods shakily.

Madeline rounds on her father and shoves him back, outright screaming at this point.

“I didn’t _ask_ for you to do what you did to Natalie! I didn’t _ask_ you to ruin Baxter! You can claim this is all to protect me as much as you want, but it’s _bullshit_! You’re selfish, and you don’t even care what I think anymore! I have to live with all of this, thanks to you!”

Makoto and Laurent are both watching the scene unfold as Madeline unleashes her frustration on her father.

“You keep telling me that this is all for my reputation, but you’ve got no idea how much Baxter hated me initially for this! Natalie probably _hopes_ your games will eventually ruin me!” She’s outright sobbing at this point. “All I wanted out of this was a fun little way to build up a background crew, and you just had to _take over_ and get lost in your…your fucking _bullshit_!”

She drops to her knees, covering her eyes with her hands, and breaks down into silent cries.

“Madeline…” It’s suddenly as if Craig doesn’t see Makoto and Laurent in the room, as he moves to crouch next to her. He places a hand on her shoulder, and she promptly smacks it away. Afterward, she glares viciously up at him.

“You _are_ going to clear Natalie’s and Baxter’s names,” she insists bitterly. “And you and I are going to go to them and we are _both_ going to apologize. And if you don’t, you can kiss this competition goodbye, because I’m out.”

“…You know we can’t just do that,” Craig tries, but Madeline shakes her head almost immediately.

“If you’re worried about your stupid reputation, you’ll do what Edamura said and you’ll pay to get them both back on their feet. Best-case scenario, your humility saves your reputation and the show goes on, and I finally start getting the backup crew I wanted out of this.”

“It’s a good idea, Mister Bettany,” Laurent speaks up from Makoto’s side as they both move to get to their feet. Makoto notices how Laurent doesn’t move from his spot next to him. It’s not like Craig is going to try anything at this point, but he can’t help but feel comforted by the proximity.

Craig may have become a shady, careless individual over time as money began to blind him, but it’s obvious that seeing his daughter cry still weakens him. It’ll never excuse his behavior, but Makoto hopes that it means he still possesses some level of humanity. Enough to let things go as they’d initially been intended to.

“And what about you?” Craig questions, turning his focus to Makoto. “What will you do after this?”

Makoto shakes his head. “Tonight’s show will be my last one. I plan on keeping in touch with Madeline—who I’m not actually in love with, by the way.” He ignores the scowl on Craig’s face. “But the point is, we’ll all know if you go breaking her heart again, and we’ll be there to help her and whoever else you hurt in the process while you rot in a back alley somewhere.”

Madeline scoffs there. “That’s harsh, coming from you.” Either way, she wipes at her eyes with the heel of her hand and turns her focus to her father. “Please, Dad. I’ll help you work on a way to handle things that doesn’t screw up the show. I want this to work.”

The scene that plays out before Makoto and Laurent is an emotional one, but it doesn’t drag on for much longer. Soon enough, Madeline has Craig’s word that he’s going to do as she’s asked, and Makoto and Laurent are headed back through the halls and toward the area where they’ll perform. Makoto is suddenly very exhausted, and also relieved that tonight will be his last performance. It’s been so very fun, but he doesn’t want to be involved anymore. There’s no point now that it’s all said and done, and he doesn’t want to wind up on Madeline’s crew in the unlikely even that he _does_ win.

Frankly, he’s ready to go back home.

“How are you feeling?” When Laurent speaks up, Makoto glances up at him, and he points to his throat with his hand to explain what exactly he’s asking about.

Makoto raises his fingers to his neck, tracing along the skin there in thought. “I don’t think he actually hurt me any. Scared the hell out of me, though.”

Laurent breathes a sigh of relief and flashes a smile Makoto’s way. “I didn’t think he’d lash out like that, but I decided it’d be a good idea to come along with Madeline just to be on the safe side.”

“Yeah…thanks for that.” Makoto nods his head, before he tucks his hands into his pockets as they descend the darkened stairs. “Do you think he’ll keep his word?”

They round another flight of stairs and Laurent’s smile widens. He reaches into one of the pockets of his vest, withdrawing a small recorder. “If not, I’ve got this.”

Makoto frowns. “You recorded the entire thing? If you release that, it’ll tank Madeline too.”

“I’m aware,” Laurent replies. “But I’ve got her permission to do so if it comes to that. Here’s to hoping it doesn’t.”

Ah, so that’s why they kept Makoto out of the loop for that part. They all likely knew he’d be against anything that damaged Madeline’s reputation completely. He can’t really argue against that, because he would have very much protested. He supposes the unfortunate reality of the situation is that his team knows him far too well.

“Were you serious about dropping out after tonight?” Laurent suddenly questions, both eyebrows raised high. “You seemed so into it up until now.”

Makoto just shrugs. “I was. I’m having a lot of fun with it. But I’m also just…so tired. It got so dramatic these past couple of weeks, and Kenny is still so angry with the whole situation that it felt a little too self-indulgent for me to stay. I’m not a professional dancer…this isn’t my place, you know?”

“I can understand that,” Laurent agrees as they reach the first floor and start their way toward the performance hall. “But for the record, it’s been fun. I’ve gotten to watch you learn and grow in ways that you likely didn’t even notice were happening. I meant it when I said I was proud of you all those times.”

Makoto hesitates for a few seconds, trying to will down the wave of emotion those words send boiling up in his chest. Laurent can be such a hopeless romantic sometimes. In any case, he eventually grins up at the taller man and elbows him playfully. “Save all that poetic energy for our performance. We’ve gotta be coming up soon, so you should go get changed.”

As Laurent jogs off to go do just that, Makoto hears the announcer call Abbie and Cynthia to the stage. Their roles in the plan had been pretty straightforward from what he remembers of the discussion—they were to compete as normal, but they’d both been equipped with radios in case things went sideways. Thankfully, they didn’t get too out of hand.

Kenny and Kudo are probably in the audience, and Makoto knows they too have radios. Kudo is a master of using his bubbly demeanor to help calm down most situations, and Kenny’s one of the best actors Makoto has met. They’re crowd control in case Abbie and Cynthia have to disappear for some reason. Chances are, Baxter is somewhere too.

Makoto hopes he somehow managed to tag along with Madeline, so that he can get a more personalized apology.

Either way, he jogs to the edge of the stage, where Abbie and Cynthia are well into their performance, and god, they really _are_ good. Despite Abbie’s statement that they’re all lone wolves, she and Abbie have never had any issues coming together as a unit. It shows in the fluidness of their moves. Cynthia moves, and it’s like Abbie takes that move and finishes it on her own. The crowd roars when at one point Abbie hops up onto Cynthia’s shoulders and performs a backflip off of them. Makoto lights up himself at the sight.

By the end of it, half the audience is standing, screaming their names. Cynthia is out of breath, sporting a gigantic smile, while Abbie waves to them all.

“I must have just missed it…” Laurent’s breathless voice appears next to Makoto, drawing his attention away while the judges sing their praises. “It sounds like they really put on a show, though.”

“They were amazing,” Makoto agrees, turning to face Laurent. He tenses, suddenly reaching out. “You were in too big of a hurry—your tie is all messed up.” He gets to work adjusting it, ignoring the way Laurent his gaping down at him. “Seriously, you’re lucky I’m here to keep you in one piece.”

Laurent simply chuckles a bit. “I suppose I am.”

Surprisingly, Makoto isn’t all that nervous for his final performance. He’s definitely not as anxious as he had been before, during all his other ones. Perhaps it’s because of the closure he gets out of this one, or maybe simply because of the fact that this is his final one. On top of that, he’s going to have Laurent with him out there on that dance floor, and he can’t think of anyone he performs better with.

For that reason, he’s perfectly content just watching the other performances until his own turn rolls up. He and Laurent exchange glances as their names are called, and they head backstage.

Once they’re out on stage, it’s completely dark. As the music starts, they’re standing several yards apart, completely still. The stage illuminates dimly, and the illusion of snow is cast before them in the form of clever lighting.

Makoto’s steps are in perfect time with Laurent’s, but he is the man’s mirror. The waltz-like beat is marched to separately as the image of snow becomes actual flakes, descending from above. Makoto takes a spot a few feet behind Laurent as the lights brighten somewhat and the story begins.

Laurent’s character is a man who went his separate way from his lover for work. The song seems to reflect back on that moment, and while Laurent takes his steps, Makoto continues to mirror them from behind.

When they finally come together, it’s during the chorus. Their waltz is fast-paced, and as the music picks up, the seasons change, the illusion of snow soon becoming the impression of rain. They separate again as the rain becomes more dense, Makoto intentionally stumbling several feet back. He flows forward yet again, slipping up behind Laurent and embracing him from behind. Laurent turns to return the gesture, but as thunder cracks all around them to the music, they’re separated once more and Makoto drops to his knees.

The music picks up in pace again, and this time, the stage is glowing brightly as if the summer sun is smiling down upon them. Laurent extends his hand and Makoto takes it, and their waltz resumes. The chorus grows more intense this time around, and Makoto hops, curling his legs around Laurent’s waist, where Laurent puts all his effort into that backbend they’d been practicing so hard. They come out of the move, swinging sideways, and Makoto surprises himself by how gracefully he flows to the ground and then gets back to his feet, and then the seasons shift to fall, with the lighting casting shadows shaped like trees and leaves being blown about in the wind.

The images start to race, the seasons changing almost violently, blending into one another as if to symbolize the way time flies by. Makoto and Laurent are separated again, but the chorus is starting to die down, suggesting the song is nearly over. Both men take their positions a few feet away and slip into their lonely, separate waltz once more. This time, however, they’re drawing closer together with every step, until Makoto falls into step directly in front of Laurent, and the two slowly fall into an embrace as the music dies out and the lighting fades to black.

In the darkness, around the cheering of the audience, Makoto can vaguely see the outline of Laurent’s face. The gleaming of his eyes. That faint indication of a wide smile. He allows himself to think in the darkness of that room that this is far too crazy for him. He had never imagined in a million years that the reason he’d be dancing with Laurent Thierry would be not for the sake of a performance, but because he’d _wanted_ to. He could have easily dropped out, but here he is, completely free of regrets, his heart racing so wildly in his chest that he almost can’t take it.

And it’s not because he’d just danced in front of a crowd on live television. It’s not because he’s finished his final performance for the competition. It’s because he’s done wondering. He’s done questioning what all of this means. Like the song they’d just performed to on stage, his story with Laurent is bittersweet, but also necessary.

Life happens, and people go their separate ways. It’s all part of the human experience. The goal in life isn’t to _fall in love_ or to _settle down_ , and Makoto knows beyond a shadow of a doubt that Laurent isn’t going to stop what he’s doing any time soon.

But damn if he isn’t in love.

As the lights come back on and he finds himself staring directly into those blue eyes, he can’t help but feel that that’s exactly what this is. He’s in love, and it doesn’t matter that the object of his affection is a giant pain in the ass and an all-around difficult person to associate with, because that’s not going to put a stop to his feelings.

You can’t help who you love, but you can accept that it’s a part of your life and keep going forward.

Makoto hardly remembers anything the judges have to say. He barely registers all the praise from other competitors on the way to the taxi back to the hotel. Hell, even the recollection of Laurent telling him how well he did is fuzzy in his mind. All that matters is that this is all about to come to an abrupt end, and Makoto wants one last unforgettable night.

They’re just in the doorway to Laurent’s room when Makoto kisses him. It’s messy and desperate and he almost misses the man’s mouth altogether, but Laurent goes along perfectly with it. He shoves the door shut behind them and takes Makoto’s face in both of his hands, kissing him back sweetly.

For several moments, they’re wrapped up in that, with Makoto’s arms tight around Laurent’s neck and their bodies pressed impossibly close together. There’s no rush—they have the whole night.

Makoto breaks off the kiss when his chest starts to ache, and he’s not sure if it’s because he needs air or that song is still resonating in the backburner of his mind. The sad waltz he and Laurent have been practicing for an entire week almost feels brand new, and at the same time burned into his skull. It aches. God, it aches.

He takes a single step backward, turning his gaze up to Laurent, and swallows down the nervousness and emotion welling up in his throat.

“We’re not having sex tonight,” he tells Laurent flatly. He feels like he could cry.

Laurent cocks his head, but smiles in understanding. “Alright.”

“No, I mean…” Makoto is so bad at articulating his feelings, but they’re all-but pouring out right now. “I want you to…I mean, we _are_ , but…this time it’s going to _mean something_.”

“Were you under the impression that it hasn’t thus far?” Laurent wonders, his expression unreadable. “Perhaps that’s my fault, but don’t be mistaken that this has all been for—”

“It’s on my part,” Makoto cuts him off, shaking his head. “All this time, I’ve told myself we’re just doing this because it _feels good_. I was never supposed to end up in this deep.” He laughs almost bitterly, though his tone isn’t actually all that harsh. “But now that we’ve got Madeline’s situation sorted out, I’m going to be leaving soon, and I don’t want to leave without clearing this up.”

Laurent nods his head, patiently urging Makoto to keep going.

“I’m in love with you,” he confesses, the words coming out surprisingly more easily than he’d expected. “I don’t know when exactly that started happening, but I could be sick right now—that’s how strong it is. But I’m not staying with you guys. I’m going back home and I’m going to finally live the way Mom would have wanted for me to. Once I’m gone, you can do what you want with this information, but tonight, I want _everything_.”

That’s right. It’s not just about having sex at this point. Makoto wants a night that he’ll never be able to forget. While he’s toiling away at his honest living in Japan and going home to his quiet little apartment where nothing ever goes wrong or spirals out of control, he wants to be able to think about the night when Laurent Thierry showed him that it was worth catching feelings for him.

And he wants to be proud that it happened. Laurent is selfish and arrogant and way too thoughtless for his own good. He’d be long-dead if not for Cynthia and Abbie being there to catch him when he screws up. But somewhere, buried underneath all the self-indulgence and flirtatious speech is a hopeless romantic who _does_ possess some level of affinity for those around him. He’ll never be able to handle it properly because he’s always too focused on everything else he’s trying to do, and he’s quite honestly a terrible excuse for a person. He’s used Makoto and Cynthia and Abbie time and time again, but he’s also _Laurent Thierry_.

And Makoto is in love with him. Plain and simple.

And no, Makoto doesn’t regret it. He’ll never understand it, but he’s glad it happened. If not for that first night skinny-dipping together, he’d have never come to realize all of this, and all the heart he had put into tonight’s performance likely wouldn’t have even existed.

“Give me all you’ve got,” Makoto continues, his voice somehow toeing the line of determined and also begging. “Let me pretend for tonight that this isn’t all there is left for us.”

A silence falls over the entire room at those words, but Makoto doesn’t feel nervous. If anything, he’s freed by saying what he feels he very much needed to say. Laurent doesn’t look as if he’s bothered by them, either. If anything, it’s almost like the feeling is mutual. It’s almost like he has long-since come to terms with the fact that simply telling him his feelings wasn’t going to convince Makoto to stay.

They both want him to, but they both also understand that it can’t happen. For the sake of Makoto’s happiness, going back is something he has to do.

But that doesn’t take the warmth out of the way Laurent moves in again. Those arms come around Makoto in almost slow-motion and envelop him completely. There’s something about being pulled so close, burying his face in Laurent’s chest, that makes Makoto feel as if everything is alright. Laurent embraces him in a way that’s similar to crawling underneath a blanket at night. It’s comforting, soothing, and such a pivotal part of Makoto’s everyday life anymore that it hurts and refreshes him all at the same time.

Laurent’s got one arm wrapped around Makoto’s shoulders, holding him tight against him, while the other hand is buried in his hair. In Makoto’s mind, he can almost feel those seasons passing like they had in their performance. Whether it’s months or entire years, he knows that he can feel the time passing. This feels like closure to him. It feels like catharsis.

“Come to bed with me,” Laurent says simply, his voice lower than usual.

Makoto doesn’t protest. Their embrace breaks and he walks almost instinctively behind Laurent toward the bedroom. The lavish hotel room surrounding them feels almost foreign all of a sudden, and it at the same time feels like a home away from home. Makoto knows that he can’t have this anymore. That this is the end of his extensive travels with Team Confidence.

Again, closure.

Again, catharsis.

Once they’re in the bedroom, Laurent begins the task of stripping down. Makoto is plenty used to the sight of him naked at this point, but he can’t help but watch. It looks to him like Laurent is completely lost in thought, his eyes half-lidded as he kicks his underwear aside and moves in. Makoto hasn’t exactly forgotten to undress, but he doesn’t protest when Laurent does it for him. He tips his head up into the not-unexpected kiss, and he lets his eyes fall shut and revels in the feeling of Laurent unbuttoning his suit and undershirt. Makoto pulls the shirt free from where it’s tucked into his pants, shrugging it off, while Laurent works on his belt and fly.

He moves his hands down along the front of Makoto’s thighs, but stops short when he feels something in Makoto’s pocket.

“Hmm?” He digs into the pocket, withdrawing the unopened capsule toy within. “You really are fond of these things, aren’t you?”

Makoto blushes a bit, but nods his head. “Open it.”

Laurent hesitates, though he obeys just seconds later. If Makoto remembers correctly, he had settled on a space-themed capsule machine earlier today, and this fact is only confirmed when Laurent pops it open and reveals a bright pink-and-purple-and-blue-tinted, recognizable collection of stars and other matter.

“The Milky Way, right?” Makoto wonders aloud, to which Laurent nods.

“I believe so.” Laurent studies the object for a few moments. Makoto notices that he seems to hone in on the different bright colors painted all over it. “Curious, looking at this tiny object and thinking that it’s made to resemble something that has somewhere in the ballpark of two hundred billion stars in it. Stars that are dying, and new ones that form over time…”

“Why don’t you keep it?” Makoto smiles widely up at Laurent, carefully prying the object from his hand and moving to place it on the dresser. “You seem to like it.”

“You said those capsule toys felt something like fortunetelling to you,” Laurent thinks aloud, and Makoto can feel those blue eyes watching him as he moves about the room. “Do you think this has some sort of deep meaning?”

Makoto stops to stand in front of Laurent once more and laughs softly. “Beats me. Maybe it’ll come to you one day. For now, you were taking my clothes off, remember?”

Makoto sees the way Laurent raises both his eyebrows in response to those words, and in seconds, they’re back to kissing once more. Laurent slides his hands into the back pockets of Makoto’s pants and pulls him flush against him once more, and Makoto shudders when he feels those hands giving his ass a squeeze through the clothing.

Laurent takes his sweet time, Makoto notices. It starts with a slow, sweet kiss, and as Laurent pushes Makoto’s pants and underwear down, he feels those lips move along his cheek, to his jaw, and then his neck.

Their positions change, but Makoto is too caught up in the moment to notice until he finds himself naked on his back, lying atop the thick comforter on Laurent’s mattress. He raises his hands up to bury them in that blond hair as Laurent steals yet another kiss from his lips, and their bodies are suddenly pressed together once more.

Laurent’s skin is soft and smooth and bare, and as their kiss grows deeper and more passionate, Makoto feels Laurent’s arousal hardening as it slides between their bodies. Makoto can tell he likes the friction, as his breathing grows a bit shakier while their hips rock in unison. He feels Laurent’s hand slide between them, fingers curling around Makoto’s growing erection, and his strokes mimic the pace of their movements.

They’re almost breathless by the time Laurent stops. Makoto is full-mast, but he doesn’t fight it when Laurent breaks off the contact. He sits upright and takes both of Makoto’s wrists, pinning them onto the mattress on either side of the bed, and then he peers down at the expanse of his body.

He’s not saying it, but Makoto can practically read his thoughts, as they’re the same as what he’s feeling right now: _I’m going to miss this._

Makoto doesn’t move his hands when Laurent releases his wrists. Instead, he lets the older man lower himself down and enjoy the body splayed out beneath him. He’s everywhere all at once, with hands roaming along Makoto’s sides and lips on his collarbone. His kisses stray down from that sensitive spot and move to his chest, where he leans down and rests his forehead right at Makoto’s sternum.

He goes still there for a few seconds, and Makoto can’t tell if he’s thinking or just enjoying himself, but soon enough, he’s moving again. He nuzzles at the skin there and then trails his lips and tongue along Makoto’s lower torso, pressing a kiss just below his navel. Afterward, he gestures up to the bedside table. “Would you?”

Makoto does as he’s asked, fishing lube and a condom out of the drawer, before he passes them Laurent’s way.

Makoto revels in the feeling as Laurent gets to work preparing him. There’s something in how attentive he’s being that makes everything so much more powerful. Laurent kisses at Makoto’s stomach, his side, even his pelvis, as he uses his fingers to work Makoto from the inside. He curls them just as he takes Makoto’s cock into his free hand and sucks the head of it into his mouth, and Makoto’s head falls back onto the pillow as he lets spill a low moan.

“D…Don’t do all that at once…” he pants, taking the sheets into fists at his sides. “Laurent, you’re gonna make me…”

Laurent seems to get the hint, and once he sees that Makoto’s ready for more, he sits upright and reaches for the condom instead.

Makoto will never get over the feeling of Laurent deep inside of him. Every time he feels that sense of fullness, it’s like it’s the first time. And right now, it’s even more so. It’s in the way their bodies connect, when Makoto feels Laurent’s skin against his own as he becomes fully sheathed inside, and when they start to move.

Laurent has a tendency to completely engulf Makoto once their bodies are intertwined like this. He’ll full-on slide his arms around Makoto’s frame, the mattress beneath him be damned, and he always buries his face in Makoto’s shoulder or neck or hair. Right now, his lips are at the base of his neck, hanging open, suckling at the skin every so often. His thrusts are deep and purposeful and slow. The best kind of slow. The kind of slow that lets Makoto feel everything.

Makoto curls his legs around Laurent’s waist and brings his hands up to his back. As Laurent angles his hips, Makoto drags his hands down along his skin, his nails just barely raking against the flesh. The response is a hitch in Laurent’s breathing that draws a moan from Makoto’s own lips.

It really has all been worth it. Makoto knows that he can’t ever do away with the memory of how Laurent has essentially dragged him into every operation thus far save for London, and there are things about the man’s behavior he’ll never excuse, but right now, he for once feels like he’s getting something out of it from Laurent, himself.

He could probably be selfishly, bitterly satisfied that he’s leaving Laurent high and dry by going back to Japan, and perhaps a Makoto from a month ago would have done just that. But right now, he doesn’t _want_ to let him go, so the simple fact that he is speaks volumes.

Feelings are tough, but this is one way to deal with them.

Laurent finds Makoto’s prostate with a particularly angled thrust and pulls him clean out of his thoughts. His grip on the man’s skin tightens, nails embedding little crescent-shaped marks into Laurent’s skin. That stammered breathing turns into a pleasured groan, and Laurent moans Makoto’s name.

Not Edamame. Not Edamura. He moans Makoto’s first name. And it sounds so, so very good coming from him. It’s a sound that reverberates in Makoto’s eardrums and becomes permanently embedded in his memory. He’ll likely be remembering that sound years into his new life.

In return, Makoto pants out Laurent’s name, rocking his hips down to meet the other man’s thrusts. His back arches, and his mouth falls open, and it’s only a matter of a few more thrusts before his orgasm sends him right over the edge and he’s left panting and quivering, his eyes practically rolling back into his skull.

He lets his legs fall loose, which seems to be what Laurent wants him to do, as he sits upright and pulls one of those legs around his waist, pushing the other open. His own movements are erratic as his pace quickens, and that gives Makoto the impression that he’s also close.

It’s nice to see Laurent this way. His cheeks and neck are flushed bright red as he moves, and the pleasured look twisted onto his normally-calm features makes everything worth it. He’s grunting, panting, _moaning_ , as he snaps his hips forward and his own climax finally hits. Makoto can see the entire expanse of his upper body, and the way he disappears into his own as he fucks him. He sees the way Laurent’s chest rises and falls as he works to catch his breath, and he sees his body practically double over forward as he finishes riding out his orgasm.

Everything is so languid after that. Laurent urges Makoto into the shower with him, and after they rinse off, he convinces him to join him in the bathtub.

Makoto isn’t sure if it’s hours or just minutes that pass once they’re submerged in that warm water, because there are no words. It’s just Makoto all leaned up against Laurent’s chest, his head resting back on his shoulder, playing absentmindedly with the bubbles in the water. Laurent is gentle as he washes Makoto’s hair and back, nuzzling at the skin of the back of his neck and shoulders every so often. He’s full of warmth and soft, affectionate chuckles as he maps out Makoto’s body with his hands.

And once they’re back in bed, it’s even more that way. Laurent seems to be taking advantage of every moment of closeness he can get, and Makoto can’t blame him. He appreciates it, himself.

They’re creatures of habit, usually adapted to conversation after everything is said and done, but neither of them can manage a word. Once they’ve finished soaking in the bath and are curled up with one another, they’re beyond exhausted. Makoto can feel the weight of the entire past month crashing down upon him, and had he not been so tired, he might have waxed emotional about it.

But sleep takes over before he can put a stop to it. Sleep puts their long night to an abrupt end.

\--- --- --- --- ---

“Are you sure this is what you want?” Laurent’s voice doesn’t even sound certain as he asks the question. But they’re at the airport now, so Makoto definitely isn’t turning back. He does glance over his shoulder at Laurent, however, as he moves to lower his bags onto the weigh station for him. The way their eyes meet instantly draws a laugh from Laurent’s lips, before he shakes his head. “Of course you’re sure. I apologize.”

Makoto doesn’t say a word. Instead, he finishes paying for his ticket and heads toward the escalator that will lead him to the security part of the check-in.

“We could grab lunch, you know. We’ve got time.”

Makoto stops at the foot of the escalator, turning to face Laurent fully, before he offers a silent nod. Yeah, lunch sounds good.

They stop at a sandwich joint inside the airport and eat their meals at a table outside of the shop. Laurent is carrying on about the competition. He and Abbie and Cynthia have chosen to linger on for now, even though the latter two have also chosen to drop out of the competition. They’re curious about Madeline and who the winner might be, according to Laurent. They’re also enjoying their stay in Vegas and want to see how things pan out _after_ a winner has been decided. Kenny has already promised Makoto that he’ll keep him posted about Natalie, so he’s not terribly concerned beyond this point.

“You know, we can still keep in touch,” Laurent says, and Makoto imagines it’s because he’s tired of attempting to make conversation. Makoto can’t say he blames him, but talking feels so strange at this point. He doesn’t want any reason to think he should stay around any longer, and any conversation they have right now could very well push Makoto to that point.

But frankly, he just needs to hurry up and rip off the bandage. The longer he lingers, the more he’s going to want to stay. It doesn’t get any simpler than that.

“Can we?” Makoto asks bluntly. He’s still got Laurent’s number in his contacts, and he doesn’t plan on removing any of the group’s numbers if he can avoid it. But the reality of the situation is pretty straightforward—he’s trying to make it so that he doesn’t get dragged into any more of Team Confidence’s schemes. Regardless of romance or anything of the like, Laurent is still the same selfish jerk he’s always been. In fact, his attachment to Makoto may serve as even more reason for him to string him back into something. “Will you leave it at that?”

Laurent seems to ponder the question for a few seconds, before he takes a sip of his drink. “You’re serious about it, aren’t you? About no longer being a confidence man.”

“Of course I am.” Makoto lets out a sigh. “I’ve always been serious about it. You just chose to be blissfully ignorant.”

Laurent mirrors his sigh. “Maybe so. Still doesn’t make it any less unfortunate.”

“Unfortunate for you, maybe,” Makoto clarifies, finishing off his sandwich. “But what you need to keep in mind here is that I’m trying to be happy. You want me to keep in touch? You’ll respect that.”

Laurent nods in understanding. “I suppose I should be happy that you’re still willing to give it a shot. But that still doesn’t answer the question about us that I asked all that time ago. What do you expect this to become?”

Makoto scoffs softly, smiling down his straw. “I’d like to see it become _something_ , but you and I are on two very different paths right now.”

“I definitely plan on paying you a visit when I can,” Laurent tells him. “Give my Japanese a bit more practice. Maybe you can tease me about my accent.”

“Which I can almost guarantee is awful,” Makoto responds, laughing a bit. “But yeah, visit me. And do it without the intention of roping me into one of your schemes.” He stands up after that, dumping the remainder of his drink into the trash. “Maybe after that, I’ll think about a relationship.”

As Laurent speaks up, Makoto can practically hear the pout in his voice. “Does this mean I get to call you my lover?”

Makoto chuckles, wheeling around and shooting Laurent a coy grin. “Hmm…I wonder.”

Having his own words thrown back in his face shocks Laurent, but when his only response is an incredulous, approving whistle, Makoto knows he hasn’t taken offense. “I see how it is.”

Makoto glances up at the clock. He’s got just under an hour to get through security and get on the plane. It’s a wonder he’d managed to get in on this flight, but he’s looking forward to getting back home. That in mind, he gestures toward the signs displaying all the flights.

“I really need to go, Laurent.”

“I know you do.” Laurent smiles, and Makoto thinks for a second that he looks awfully solemn. Going their separate ways _does_ suck, though.

Regardless, he steps away from the restaurant and out into the main walkway of the airport. He flashes Laurent one last big smile. “I’ll miss you, okay?”

As he turns to leave, he’s not surprised to feel a hand gripping at his sleeve. When he pivots back around, he lets out another sigh, but it’s cut off short by a pair of lips pressed against his own.

Not surprisingly, Makoto melts right into that kiss. His knees feel as if they’re going to buckle and his heart suddenly soars. He really _is_ going to miss Laurent. And while he’s at it, he’ll miss Cynthia and Abbie and everyone else. At the very least, he’ll be able to see Kudo from time to time.

The kiss lasts probably longer than it needs to, but Makoto doesn’t have the heart to pull away. It’ll be the last time he gets to enjoy that feeling for probably a very long time.

When they finally separate once more, Laurent’s grip doesn’t let up on Makoto’s arm. He stares pointedly down at him, and then nods his head in silent understanding.

“Call me when you make it home, Edamame.”

Makoto fakes a wince. “Breaking out the nicknames again. Smooth boyfriend move, Laurent.”

His words leave Laurent speechless, which is exactly the desired effect. It gives him time to pull away. He chokes out a quick, unfortunately-too-emotional laugh, and then turns and starts toward security.

“When you show up next time, you’d better bring a gift! And a really good one, too!”

And before Makoto can talk himself into turning back toward Laurent again, he breaks into a run.

He’s got to get home and visit his mother. He’s got so much to tell her. If she were alive, she’d probably smack the hell out of him for not getting into touch sooner.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> holy shit holy shit holy shit i finished this thing. i did a lot of reviewing this chapter midway through each scene because i knew it was going to be a lot, so i hope it turned out alright. i decided to throw in a little epilogue at the end just to make sure everything was tied off alright. 
> 
> a huge thank-you to all of you for giving this work all your time. i seriously cannot say enough how much i appreciate all the love and kind words you guys have given me. you are all so sweet, and i can honestly say that without your encouragement and enjoyment of this work, i would not have gotten as far with it as i did.
> 
> so again, thank you so, so much. i hope you enjoyed this chapter, and i hope you enjoy the epilogue as well.


	7. Epilogue

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> it didn't really sit right with me leaving the fic off at the end of the last chapter, so here's a little sweetness to make it a little better. enjoy!

“Edamura, get your ass in here already!”

“Right, sorry!”

Makoto rounds a corner with a box he can barely see over clutched in his arms. It only took him about fifteen minutes of digging around in storage to find what he was looking for, but with how busy the shop is today, he can’t really blame his boss for being so impatient. They’ve got a whole line of customers practically waiting out the door for service, and their only other scheduled employee is out sick.

Honest work was hard to come by. Everyone in the local area knows about Makoto’s father, and his reputation is the first thing to cross their minds. Not unlike after he had served his first sentence following the fraud situation with Kudo, he had faced a lot of refusal. People saying they couldn’t have someone with Ozaki’s name over their head working in their establishment, telling him he was probably no different from his father, wondering why he’d gone on vacation for as long as he had. It all unfortunately makes sense.

His last-ditch effort had been a little coffee shop that looked as if it didn’t even belong in the area. Makoto had never seen it before, but when he’d come in for a drink and half-assedly asked if the owner was hiring, he’d been interviewed and given the job on the spot.

Initially, Makoto had fancied it too good to be true. He’d found himself wondering if this had something to do with Team Confidence, but when he’d spoken to Laurent over the phone about it and the bastard had sounded even more confused than he was, he’d quickly dismissed the concern. Laurent is a brilliant actor, but Makoto has gotten to the point where he can tell what’s real and what’s fake with him.

But it’s been a year now, and Makoto has been working hard to rebuild his reputation. The shop is short-staffed, so Makoto pulls more hours than he probably would at a normal job, but he likes his boss and his coworkers, as few of them as they are. On top of that, the coffee here is spectacular, and everyone seems to think Makoto has a flair for making the drinks even more tasty all on his own.

Maybe one day, he’ll run his own coffee shop.

For now, though, he’s content with what he has. He’s still in touch with Cynthia and Abbie, though Abbie is even less of a talker from afar than she was up close. Every so often, Madeline will send him a message and ask how he’s doing.

The last winner of the competition was a young man by the name of Ronaldo, and so far, everything seems to be going perfect with him. Madeline brags about how brilliant of a performer he is, and she often pokes fun that he’s light years better than Makoto himself could ever hope to be.

A month following Makoto’s return to Japan, Natalie’s name was cleared and she was released from prison. She is currently attending a college in San Diego, majoring in linguistics. According to Madeline, the two never managed to repair their former friendship, but she’s happy to hear that Natalie is doing alright. Baxter is now engaged to his new soon-to-be-husband, and they’re both staying in an apartment together. Baxter works full-time at the gas station he’d been helping at during his period of homelessness, and from what Madeline has told Makoto, he’s content with that.

Things seem to have turned out alright, and now that Makoto is on his way to living a normal life himself, he feels much more content with his decision to come home than ever.

But boy, does he miss everyone. They all talk every now and then, but it’s a lot different from the real thing. Makoto will cook up something quick at home and munch on it while he’s chatting away with Cynthia or Kudo or Kenny over the phone, and he can’t help but observe how different it is from sitting in lavish hotel rooms, sipping on the finest wine.

He can accept that, though. The fact that he can do so makes him all the happier.

He visits his mother’s grave whenever he can. Being able to tell her that he’s got a steady job and an apartment on his own is satisfying. He can’t help but feel like she would be proud of him, especially after seeing how things had gone with the tea company.

He finally has the chance to be a grown man now, and this year has proven that it’s okay for him to sit down and think that maybe he can be proud of that. He’s alone, but he’s not lonely.

The coffee shop, for its quirky scenery and unique presence, catches a lot of business, but because of the hours, it’s a challenge to find full-time workers willing to stay. They’ve managed to pull in a few good part-timers every so often, but it’s tough to keep up with the ever-increasing customer flow. Makoto had even tried bringing Kudo in to work with him, but the man had refused with that ever-present big smile on his face.

But he’s not doing anything else with his time, so he figures it’s all well and good that he’s as busy as he is.

He rushes back into the store and unpacks the items he’d been sent out to retrieve. They’re just little ceramic mugs they had been selling when Makoto had first started that customers have started asking about out of the blue. Makoto immediately sells almost the entire box within the first hour of having brought it in. Once it’s all gone, he promises to see if they can get more ordered and gets to work making drinks.

The shifts almost always fly by here. Before Makoto knows it, it’s evening and they’ve closed up shop. He thanks his boss, before he waves and heads out the door and down the street, toward his apartment.

He turns his gaze up to the sky and releases a long sigh. The city paints over the stars here not unlike it had in Vegas—all grayed-over and yet somehow pasteled by the various lights glowing down at them from below. That galaxy, so massive, yet so hard to see through everything.

Makoto still remembers that first night there. The smells of the city, and the look of the lights from below the surface of the water he and Laurent had swam in together. The feeling of that body against his own. It had been only the start of what had turned out to be a very intense and rapidly-growing fondness that Makoto still holds dear.

So far, Laurent is keeping his promise. They talk on the phone. Laurent weaves grand tales about the different places he’s traveled, and Makoto doesn’t believe all the things he hears, but he enjoys the stories no less. Sometimes, he says things like ‘ _I’d like to show you someday_ ’, but Makoto doesn’t allow himself the fantasy of hoping for that to happen. Not yet, at least. He most often just hums in approval.

Almost as if Laurent knows Makoto has been thinking about him, the phone rings, and his name is on the LED display. Makoto picks up, scoffing softly into the receiver.

“Good timing—I just got off work.”

“ _I figured as much_ ,” Laurent responds from the other end of the call. “ _So what’s for dinner?_ ”

“I haven’t gotten to that part yet,” Makoto replies as he walks. “Probably reheats—today was exhausting.”

“ _Was it? I remember you telling me the shop is getting busier every day.”_

“Yeah. We still haven’t gotten any new permanent employees.”

Laurent chuckles over the phone. “ _Well, I’m proud of you for sticking with it despite that._ ”

“Are you kidding?” Makoto laughs, tucking his free hand into his pocket. “I live for this kind of stuff. I’m actually kind of a badass, Laurent.” He hears Laurent laugh along with him, so he speaks up once more. “So, are you headed anywhere new this time around?”

“ _I get the feeling you’re living vicariously through my travels, Edamame._ ”

“So what if I am?” Makoto replies easily, turning the corner that will eventually lead him to his apartment. “That’d be the easiest way to have the best of both worlds, right?”

“ _I imagine it would,_ ” Laurent replies, and Makoto can practically hear the smile in his voice. “ _Well, get home and get settled in and I’ll tell you all about it, alright?_ ”

Makoto scoffs into the phone. “It’s not like all of Japan can hear you right now or anything.”

“ _I know,_ ” Laurent says. “ _Just get home, will you?_ ”

Makoto shrugs as if Laurent can see it, and then starts up the stairs leading to his apartment. He immediately notices that there’s a shadow at the top of his stairs, which alarms him somewhat. His apartment is constructed over a small shop, so it’s the only other door at the top of the stairs. He tenses, his pace slowing.

“Hold on a sec, Laurent.”

“ _Is everything alright?”_ Laurent sounds concerned.

“There’s someone at my door. No big deal.” Despite those words, Makoto can’t shake the sense of nervous discomfort he feels in his chest.

“ _Don’t hang up, alright?_ ”

Makoto opens his mouth to affirm that he won’t, until the figure steps out of the shadows. When it’s none other than Laurent Thierry standing at the top of the stairs, Makoto hangs up his phone and tucks it into his pocket, and then he just stares up at the man smiling down at him.

Laurent stands there, wearing a knee-length khaki-colored jacket that makes him look even more like a crook than usual, but the smile on his face and the as-per-usual ritzy clothing underneath the jacket make him the familiar face Makoto has been aching to see.

“I brought dinner,” Laurent greets as if nothing special had happened at all. “And the gifts you made me promise you. Now, how about that story?”

That piece of shit. Acting like he was so far away just for the element of surprise. He’d even gone so far as to sound concerned when Makoto noticed his shadow at the top of the stairs. That bastard…he’s going to kill this guy. He’s going to sock the shit out of him, and then he’s going to—

Makoto lunges before he can use his better judgment, all-but tackling Laurent to the ground. The bag of aforementioned ‘dinner’ is sent flying from his hands, but neither man seems to care. Makoto doesn’t even give a shit that he’s lying atop Laurent at the top of the stairs leading up to his apartment.

He hasn’t seen Laurent in a year. His heart is soaring right now.

“Bastard!” Makoto raises a fist into the air, but when he sees Laurent tense in response, he can’t bring himself to do it. Instead, he allows the older man to sit upright and then throws his arms around his shoulders, burying his face in his neck. “Give me a little warning next time.”

He notices how Laurent hesitates, but those arms are soon wrapped around him as well. Laurent chuckles. “Sorry. I thought it’d be sweet.”

“Sweet?” Makoto laughs against Laurent’s skin. “It scared the hell out of me.”

When Makoto finally pulls back, Laurent moves to stand up, extending a hand in his direction. “Well, we’re going to have to figure something out for dinner, considering my idea was quite literally trashed just now.”

Makoto simply shrugs. “I told you already—reheats.”

He doesn’t hesitate to take Laurent’s hand into his own as he uses his free one to unlock the door. Frankly, he doesn’t give a damn about dinner right now. He has a year’s worth of distance to catch up on. Laurent is practically going to have to peel him off of him when he decides to get back on the road.

You know, provided this isn’t the introduction to another scheme.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> again, thank you guys so much for reading this! i can't believe it's finished. ; w;


End file.
